L'Academie des Sorcieres
by MargretKelley
Summary: At the age of 10, Ginny was selected to attend a very elite, all-witches school. When she finishes, Voldemort has been defeated but his followers have overtaken the Ministry. Instead of getting the job she was promised, she is forced into marriage.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - The Letter**

Molly and Arthur Weasley were sitting together in the kitchen at the Burrow sipping their tea in the dimly lit kitchen. The sun had not yet risen but the sky was growing light and a bright half-moon filled the sky.

"It's going to be so strange this year," sighed Molly, setting her tea down. "I still can't believe it's already time for Ron to go to Hogwarts. I just don't know what I'll do next year when my baby girl leaves too…" A sob escaped her lips and she folded her arms down on the table, shoving her abandoned teacup to a precarious position, and burying her face in the thin fabric of her robe sleeves.

"Shh... Molly, no worrying about that just yet," Arthur said soothingly. He reached over to rub his wife's back. "There's still another whole year before Ginny leaves..." He paused in his ministrations as a large owl flew in the open window and landed on the table. It was an elegant looking owl, its feathers gleaming both silver from the moonlight and a soft gold from the candlelight, standing stock-still while holding out a leg containing two scrolls. Once Arthur had fumbled about with the purple ribbon attaching the scrolls to the bird's leg it took off into the dark sky, not even waiting for a treat or drink of water.

"What is dear?" Molly said, looking up at her husband with a tear-streaked face.

"Just an odd owl post," he said, frowning at the scrolls. The thinner of the two was addressed to _The Parents of Ginevra Weasley_. Breaking the purple wax seal, he then smoothed the letter out on the table so they could both read it. Molly flicked her wand at a few key points around the room, lighting several gas lamps on the walls so that they had enough light to read the missive by.

_Dear Monsieur and Madame Weasley,_

_We are pleased to inform you that your daughter, Ginevra Molly Weasley, has been selected to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres. _

_L'Academie des Sorcieres is an ancient school of magic that has been operational for nearly three millennia with the goal of ensuring the brightest and most powerful witches receive an exemplary education. The witches who come here may not necessarily be gifted in a solely magical field but may in fact have exceptional skills in an ordinary area that change how we view the world. Our Divinations professors are tasked with finding girls who show great potential and following their recommendations we offer these girls positions in our school._

_This letter has been sent to you at this time such that you may think about the offer. Since Miss Weasley does not speak French, she would be required to arrive here no later than January 2 to gain fluency in the language before the next term starts on September 1. There are no summer holidays but students are permitted to return home for two weeks for Easter holidays and another two weeks for Christmas holidays._

_As with any other witch accepted to L'Academie des Sorcieres, everything will provided for your daughter when she arrives here. We are highly specific in the school supplies that must be purchased after her arrival, and as such, we must ask that she bring nothing more than herself and the clothes on her back when she arrives. Similarly, owls carrying any personal effects for the students (other than letters) are strictly prohibited and the intended recipient will be expelled. Anything purchased by the school will be hers to keep. She will be accompanied by a staff member at all times whenever she leaves the school grounds until she reaches the age of seventeen._

_Please do consider this offer and reply by owl no later than September 1._

_Jeanne Boucher_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Arthur's jaw had dropped after reading the first line of the sentence and was still hanging open while Molly's face had taken on an uncharacteristically pale hue. "I suppose we should discuss this with Ginny after I drop the others off today…" said she rather faintly, placing her trembling hands in her lap.

"Yes, we should." Arthur shook his head. "I'm going to leave work after lunch today so that both of us can talk to Ginny about this. You will be alright seeing the boys off yourself, won't you?" he asked anxiously.

"Of course I will," she told him indignantly, and he was pleased to see that his remark had put some pink back into her cheeks. "Though I still don't understand why you can't come with us, it is Ron's first year after all, and Percy's a _prefect_ this year too. Oh, I do hope he gets head boy like Bill! I'm sure Charlie would've gotten it too if he hadn't decided that chasing dragons around was more important than finishing school…"

"I wasn't expecting an emergency call this early either," he said glumly. "I hope it gets resolved quickly but Frank wouldn't even tell me what it was about." After glancing down at his watch, he gulped down the rest of his tea and pecked his wife on the cheek. "I'll be home for lunch, give the boys my love." As he walked out the door to Apparate to the ministry, Molly gulped down what remained of her tea before starting a grand breakfast for her children's last morning at home.

* * *

A few hours later Molly was hurrying her five youngest children along the platforms at Kings Cross station. "Now, what's the platform number?" she asked they hurried along. Her older boys rolled their eyes at her seemingly silly question, but the meaning of it went deeper than they knew. It was done by many of the parents to help Muggleborns find the platform: the ticket officer obviously wouldn't be able to help so hopefully if they heard the odd platform number they would quietly approach the witch or wizard who announced it and find their way to the train.

"Nine and three-quarters!" exclaimed Ginny. "Mum, can't I go…"

Molly sighed to herself, recalling the letter that had arrived that morning, but she really did need to concentrate and make sure her children managed to get onto the platform unseen by Muggles. "Alright, Percy, you first."

After ushering her sons as well as a lonely little boy through the wrought iron gate, she grabbed Ginny's small hand and the two of them walked through to see the familiar red train waiting at the platform with a faint trail of billowing smoke in the air. Grabbing each of the twins by a shoulder, she turned them about to face her.

"Now listen to me, you two," she said sternly. "I don't want to be getting any letters from the school about the two of you this year. I wouldn't mind it if the letters came from you," she hinted before dropping her grasp on their shoulders, only to pull them into a hug, banging their heads together.

"Ow!" Fred complained.

"Really, Mum, did you have to do that?"

"You know I love you two very much, no matter how much grey I have to charm out of my hair from your antics." She pulled back, mopping her eyes for the second time that morning. "Your father sends his love too!"

"We love you too, Mum," George said gruffly.

"Yes, Mum, we really do. However, we must be off since Lee's got a tarantula in his compartment already!"

Molly smiled at her two sons retreating backs, who for all the trouble they gave her, reminded her so much of her own brothers. She only had a moment to reminisce before Percy came striding towards her.

"I'm all settled into the Prefect's carriage," he informed her.

"Oh, Percy, I'm so proud of you," she said with a smile, straining her neck to see his face. "You've really gotten too tall, do you know that?"

He laughed. "Mum, that's why I asked for new robes as my present. Even Bill's longest ones were getting short on me."

"Well, I'm sure I don't need to remind you to behave yourself this year. You will keep an eye on Ron, won't you?"

Percy puffed out his chest importantly, emphasizing his shiny prefect badge. "Of course, Mum. It's my duty as a prefect but even doubly so as a brother."

"That's my boy," Molly said proudly. "Now, you have a good year and we'll see you at Christmas. Your father and I love you very much and we're so very proud of you."

Percy hugged her back with all the awkwardness of a fifteen-year-old boy hugging his mother in public. "Love you too, Mum," he said, before striding back over to the train.

Ginny came bounding back over to her mother's side. "I helped Ron pick out a compartment and put his trunk away!" she said, her eyes shining brightly. "I wanted to stay on the train and sneak into Hogwarts but he wouldn't let me."

Molly tried to smother her laughter at her daughter's efforts. "I'm sure someone would've caught you anyways and made you get off if Ron hadn't," she said soothingly.

Fred and George came bounding back into view. "I thought you were going to see Lee," Molly said frowning.

"We did," Fred said with a wave of his hand.

"But you'll never guess who we ran into," George continued.

"Harry Potter," they said in unison.

"Oh! Can I go see him? Please, Mum!" Ginny begged.

Molly frowned at her daughter. "No, he's not something to be ogled at in a zoo." She turned back to the twins. "Are you certain it was him?"

"Yeah," Fred said seriously. "Saw the scar and everything. It's on his forehead, like lightning."

"He was the boy we helped on the platform," George supplied helpfully.

"Oh poor dear, no wonder he was all alone."

Ron approached the twins, but Molly pulled him into a hug.

"I can't believe you're so big already!"

"Ow, Mum! Gerrof!"

"Wait, you've got something on your nose – "At this Molly pulled a clean handkerchief out of her pocket and tried to scrub some dirt off of Ron's nose.

"Has ickle Ronnikins got something on his nose?" Fred asked, only to receive glares from both his mother and sister.

"Mum!" Ron gasped indignantly as he managed to pull away.

"We should probably get on the train, it's nearly time," George said quickly, taking pity on his brother.

Molly was distracted until the train finally started chugging away from the station and she looked down at the little girl next to her. Her bright red hair was blowing wildly in the wind and tears were glinting in her eyes.

"Oh, Ginny dear, don't be sad! Mummy's got a big surprise for you back home!" Scooping her into her arms, she twisted on the spot and apparated back to the Burrow. _I'm not going to be able to do that much longer,_ she thought sadly. Much as she wanted to hold onto her little girl for as long as she could, the letter that arrived that morning, as well as the increasingly obvious fact that her daughter was nearly as tall as she, indicated that her babies were all growing up.

* * *

Ginny sat forlornly at the kitchen table while her mother bustled about the kitchen making sandwiches. She finally finished and placed two large trays of sandwiches on the table and gave her a large glass of milk. Apparently her mother felt that she was still feeding six teenage boys since there was definitely enough food out for all her brothers. Grabbing a roast beef and cheese sandwich, she looked expectantly at her mother who had started pacing the kitchen nervously.

Swallowing her bite of sandwich and washing it down with some milk she finally asked, "Mum? Is there something wrong?"

"We're just waiting for your father, dear," she mumbled distractedly, glancing up at the clock where Arthur's hand stayed firmly put at "work".

Ginny frowned at her mother and came to the conclusion that she was hungry and she certainly wasn't going to figure out what was going on until her father arrived home. She began tucking into her delicious sandwich and did her best to ignore her mother as she clearly wasn't going to say what was going on till her father arrived. Just as she was finishing her second sandwich, her mother gasped and seconds later there was the distinct crack of Apparition, shortly followed by her father walking through the door.

"Oh my, oh my," her father sighed. "Who would ever guess that a Sunday morning would be so hectic? Turns out that a witch was running a Muggle dancing school and had bewitched all the dancing shoes so that her students would never make a mistake…" He rambled on in this manner until he had finished eating his sandwiches. Her mother had finally sat down at the table and had listened to his ramblings while wringing her hands all the while.

Ginny crossed her arms and stared at her parents. "What exactly is going on?" she demanded.

Her parents looked at each other uneasily. Scratching his head, her father finally said, "Well, Gin, we got a letter this morning inviting you to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres."

Her mouth gaped open. She had heard rumors of the mythical school but nothing more. Supposedly only very special, very talented witches ever got to go there, although exactly where _there_ was something she had never managed to figure out, so she had reached the conclusion that it was a made up school for bedtime stories. Finally, she managed to squeak out, "W-wh-what? You mean that place actually _exists_?"

Her mother smiled at her and began to rub her arm soothingly. "Yes, dear, you've been invited to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres. It's a tremendous honor to be asked to attend there." She picked up the scrolls that had arrived that morning and handed them to Ginny. The first one had already been unfurled and obviously read by her parents already, but there was a second, thicker one addressed to her that was still tightly furled.

"I – I'll just take these up to my room then," she stammered before bolting up the stairs. Throwing herself on her bed, she read the first letter. She found herself both thrilled and terrified by the prospect. She'd be able to go to school instead of being the little baby stuck at home and her parents wouldn't have to worry about buying her school supplies. However, she'd be going far, far away from home all by herself with nothing to remind her of home or have her familiar comforts. Sighing she unfurled the second letter and began to read.

_Dear Mademoiselle Ginevera,_

_By now I trust that you are aware that you have been invited to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres. I will explain why this is such an honor and how we differ from other magical academies, since you have likely not heard too much of our school._

_We keep tabs on the most powerful and intelligent witches in the Magical Community all over Europe, with such witches as Morgan La Fay and Circe being some of our more prominent graduates. When the time comes, we send these letters inviting witches, such as you, to join us. Since the school is located in France and we have so many witches with varying native tongues, all classes are taught in French. As such, you will spend the Winter and Summer terms before you are due to start in a French immersion program to ensure that you have enough fluency in the language to excel in your classes in the Fall term. As you will find out when you arrive, being a powerful witch is not simply limited to the standard magical subjects you study and we will do everything in our power to see where you excel and hone your abilities to their absolute best._

_Our curriculum also is quite different than those found at Beuxbatons, Durmstrang, or Hogwarts. We feel that it is important to study many of the same subjects Muggles do as well as the traditional magical courses. You will also remain here for ten years rather than the seven the other school require. However, as our program is held in such high esteem throughout the world, you are guaranteed a job immediately following your graduation. We have attached the courses you will be taking over the next year:_

_**Winter/Summer 1992**_

_Total French Immersion_

_Poise and Etiquette_

_**Fall 1992**_

_Potions 1 and Chemistry 1_

_Magical and Muggle History 1_

_Herbology 1 and Plant Biology_

_French 1_

_English 1_

_German 1_

_Latin 1_

_Poise and Etiquette_

_**Winter 1993**_

_Transfiguration 1_

_Charms 1_

_Healing 1 and Human Physiology 1_

_French 2_

_English 2_

_German 2_

_Latin 2_

_Poise and Etiquette_

_**Summer 1993**_

_Arthimancy 1 and Pre-Algebra_

_Divination 1_

_Care of Magical Creatures and Zoology_

_French 3_

_English 3_

_German 3_

_Latin 3_

_Poise and Etiquette_

_After completing all of the basic courses (typically after your fifth year), you may choose a more specified area to study. As mentioned in the accompanying letter, students are not allowed to bring anything of their own to school. This was instituted such that there are no petty rivalries over possessions that would interfere with your studies._

_We hope that you will join us in January!_

_Jeanne Boucher_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Ginny contemplated the second letter. It did sound like a great opportunity and she would get to school earlier than expected. As much as she did want to attend Hogwarts, she had already been to the castle for Bill's graduation and there she would simply one of many Weasleys. None of her brothers had attended L'Academie des Sorcieres so she would not have to fight to get out of six large shadows. There was also the issue of money: she knew that while her parents made sure that they had everything they needed, money was still very tight. Having one less person to buy school supplies for would help them and from what she understood, she would be able to get a well-paying job after she graduated and would be able to help her family out then. Yes, she had decided, she would go.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

****_As always, many thanks should be given to my awesome beta, Lynn._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – The Announcement**

When her parents sent an owl to Madame Boucher saying that Ginny would be delighted to take advantage of this unique opportunity, Ginny had slipped in a letter of her own along with it.

_Dear Madam Boucher,_

_My parents are sending you a letter saying that I'll be coming in January, but I thought I'd write you myself. You see, while you gave a bit of an explanation about the school, it really didn't answer __my__ questions._

_My brothers, who are all older than me and went to Hogwarts, would tell me all these amazing things about the castle. Is your school in a castle? Do the stairs move? Do you have to fight a trolls to fit in with everyone else? Supposedly there's ghosts there too who are dead helpful, but there's a poltergeist that everyone but Fred and George complain about. Does your school have any ghosts? Are they friendly?_

_Thanks,_

_Ginny_

To say she was shocked at the response would be an understatement. Madame Boucher seemed to slip into a full-on teacher mode and sent several textbooks on the history of the school, a lengthy letter explaining each of the courses she would be required to take as well as all the elective courses available, and several French primers she would be able to bring along with her. What was the most shocking was the textbook that contained a biography of every witch to have attended the school. Very few of them had been experts in "normal" jobs, as she called them: many of them had gone on to create entirely new things or had found ways to integrate Muggle technology with magic.

While her parents had not only accepted her choice but had even encouraged it, she was still uncertain of her brother's reactions. They could all be awfully overprotective of her since she was not only the baby of the family, but their only sister, and they might not like her going away somewhere far away where they couldn't keep her from harm. They might even take it as a personal insult that Hogwarts wasn't good enough for her and she had to go to some snooty school far away. All these thoughts ran through her head one day mid-December. Her hands began to tremble as she slid the gingerbread cookies she had baked off the tray and onto the platter.

"Here, Ginny dear, let me finish that for you," her mother said while taking the cookie tray out of her daughter's trembling hands. Ginny sank into a nearby chair and began staring intently at her hands.

"What if they hate me, Mum?" she said softly. "What if my brothers never speak to me again because of this?"

"Ginny, that's just silly," her mother scolded. "Your brothers won't give you any trouble, I'll see to that…"

"But, Mum…"

"Ginevera…"

"All right, all right," she said, throwing her hands up in the air signaling defeat. "I'll make sure that my room is straightened out before everyone gets here." Stomping up the stairs, she opened the door to her room and locked the door. It was a very crude Muggle lock her father had found for her years ago when her brothers were always barging into her room. After listening to her cry after one particularly rough day, he had found the lock in his collection and spelled it to resist most unlocking charms. While he and her mother knew spells to unlock it, none of her brothers did.

Despite what she had told her mother earlier, Ginny's room was already clean. It was a violent explosion of pink: the wall were a bright pink, the carpet a pale pink, the furniture white with pink butterflies, and both the bedspread and curtains were pale pink with bright pink butterflies. She winced slightly, here she was, a big girl about to go off to school in another country and her room still looked like that of a little girl. Finally, she had determined what she wanted for Christmas and sat down to write her letter to Father Christmas.

Molly and Arthur had set up a system many years ago for Father Christmas letters. They kept stacks of charmed paper on hand which once folded in a particular way appeared in a special bin hidden to the children that jingled merrily whenever it received a new letter. While most of the children still used it for writing their letters to Father Christmas, Bill and Charlie used it whenever they wished to send them a private message. Molly had gotten letters from all her children this year, with the exception of Ginny. She knew that this was because Ginny was leaving soon and wouldn't be able to bring any gifts with her, but she was still saddened nonetheless. Needless to say, she assumed Bill or Charlie was writing her when she heard the merry jingling just before she headed off to Kings Cross station to pick up her sons.

She walked over to the bin to retrieve the letter and gasped when she recognized Ginny's scribble of "Father Christmas" on the front. The letter was eagerly torn open and she began to read its contents in the dim light of the cupboard:

_Dear Father Christmas,_

_I'm terribly sorry for waiting so long to write you this year, but I've been at a loss as to what to tell you. You see, I'm going to this new school in soon and I'm not allowed to bring anything with me, so it'd be rather silly for me to ask for anything this year. However, I think I have found a solution to this and I do hope you'll be able to help me._

_First off, I'm going to school and my room is still pink. I'm not a little girl anymore and I really wish my room were any other color. I don't care if you just charm everything to be another color, just __please__ let my room be any color other than __**pink.**_

_Secondly, please, please don't let my brothers be mad at me for not going to Hogwarts. Also, please let the new girls at school like me. I've never really had any real friends before and I really want to make some when I get there._

_Thanks very much,_

_Ginny_

Molly's mouth was set in a thin line. If this was all her daughter wanted for Christmas, then by God, she was going to get it.

* * *

Later that afternoon, after picking up her sons at the train station, Molly began hustling her boys towards the Leaky Cauldron so that they could Floo back home. They were quite surprised when she steered them into a booth instead of going directly to the fireplace. They were even more surprised when after they all sat down, she stood at the head of the table, hands on her hips, glowering down at them.

"Are we eating dinner here, Mum?" Ron asked confusedly, while Fred and George exchanged puzzled looks. _They_ certainly hadn't done anything worthy of their mother's wrath – recently. There was that one time two months ago – but no, they had already received her Howler for it.

"No, I just need to talk to all of you before we get home." Molly sighed heavily. "Ginny has some news for you and I expect each and every one of you to accept it. She's having a hard time worrying about you lot."

Fred and George looked horrified. "Mum," George began, "Ginny is way too young for a boyfriend."

Molly nearly burst out laughing seeing the horrified expressions her four sons now sported. "No, dear, she's not seeing anyone." She shook her head in amusement, afraid that if she didn't she'd burst out laughing and lose the image she was trying to maintain. "I expect she'll tell you during dinner and I don't want to hear one unkind word out of _any_ of you." She gripped the edge of the table and glared down at them. "Have I made myself clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Mum" was heard mumbled and she smiled at their retreating backs as she shooed them all to the fireplace.

Ginny was lying on her bed thinking of what her life would be like in just over a week. Would it be similar to the chaos and comfort she knew at home? Would it be cold and uncaring? She was particularly concerned about the constant "Poise and Etiquette" classes she would have to take: the extent of the etiquette that was expected at the Burrow was to say please, thank you, and not speak with your mouth full. Ron had been failing dismally at the latter one all of his life. The books that Madame Boucher sent made her think that there was a great deal of emphasis placed on that particular subject and that there was a great deal more involved.

She was startled out of her thoughts when she heard a loud thunk on the floor in the kitchen followed by an enthusiastic shout of "GINGERBREAD!" Her brothers must have arrived home and from the sound of it, were devouring all of her hard work. She squealed, jumped out of her bed, and bounded down the stairs to give her brothers a welcome home hug and pester them about school.

"Ron, watch out – " Fred tried to warn him, but Ginny had already catapulted herself towards her youngest brother, who sprayed gingerbread crumbs across the room at the force of her impact.

"Gin – gerrof! Come on..." he whined.

Fred walked over to pat his brother's shoulder. "Don't worry, ickle Ronnikins, she does this all the time, you'll just have to – oomph –" He was cut off as Ginny took advantage of another brother nearby and enveloped him in a bear hug.

"I think I shall just head upstairs and unpack my things," Percy said pompously, attempting to stride to the staircase before getting attacked by Ginny. Unfortunately for him, he was not quick enough and was nearly knocked over by his baby sister.

"Now, now, Gin," George said as he walked over to free his brother from his sister's clutches. "Don't tell me you don't have a hug for your favorite brother?"

Ginny released Percy, who began to gingerly rub his ribs before escaping to his room, and clung to George. George hugged her back just as fiercely before she exclaimed, "I knew there was a reason you're my favorite brother!"

"Hey now," Fred pouted, feigning hurt. "I thought _I_ was your favorite brother."

Ginny stuck her hands on her hips and glared at her brothers. "I made gingerbread cookies for all of you and this is the welcome I get? Humph."

"Now, Ginny dear, calm down. You know your brothers are just teasing you," her mother said. "Now, dinner's nearly ready and your father should be home any minute so why don't you all go clean up for dinner?"

After everyone had bolted up the stairs to try and get to the bathroom first so they could be the first one at the table, they had all grumbled, washed up, and scrambled back downstairs, where their father had arrived. After hoots of delight at seeing him and somewhat less enthusiastic hugs than earlier, they had all enjoyed Molly's delicious cooking. About halfway through dinner, Ginny noticed her mother's pointed looks, and finally cleared her throat.

"Does anyone remember the stories about L'Academie des Sorceries?" she started off, somewhat timidly.

"It's a mythical school that's had a number of different names, but that's the most recent one," Percy said promptly, holding a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth. "Why do you ask?"

"How do you know it doesn't exist?" she pressed on, hoping that Percy's studiousness would help her in this case.

"I don't," he answered honestly. "According to stories, it's not a public university so it wouldn't appear in articles about public Wizarding education in Europe. There are a handful of private schools in Europe, however, which very few people know of, so it's possible that it is counted among that number."

"What if," Ginny said carefully, "I said I got an invite from them?"

Percy blinked rather owlishly. "Well, I'd have to give you my congratulations then." He seemed to finally grasp what she was trying to say.

"You mean," said Fred, "that that school _actually_ exists?"

"You won't be going there, right, Ginny?" George asked, confident that her response would be in the negative.

"Actually," Ginny said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "The school _does_ exist and I _am_ going there." Glancing around the table she saw her brothers looking at her in shock. "I'm leaving on Boxing Day," she muttered, looking down intently at her mashed potatoes.

"WHAT?" Ron shouted. "You're only ten! You can't go to Hogwarts till you're eleven and you definitely can't start mid-term."

"I'm not going to Hogwarts," she mumbled, feeling ill and suddenly wishing she had eaten much less. "I'm going to L'Academie des Sorcieres."

"And why are you starting mid-term?" George asked confusedly.

Arthur cleared his throat and took over. "This is a tremendous honor for Ginny. It's a highly selective school that asked her to attend, but since classes are in French she needs to start the immersion program next month."

Daring a peek upwards, Ginny glanced at her brother's faces. Percy's mouth was hanging open, with his mouth full of chewed food. Fred and George appeared to be waiting for someone to yell, "April Fools!" Ron was handling it by far the worst: he looked absolutely livid and his face had taken on the traditional Prewett purple. She contemplated ducking under the table to avoid the oncoming explosion, be it blood, food, or both, before her mother's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"_Percy_! I have never seen such appalling table manners from you! Shut your mouth this instant!

"You mean… this isn't a joke?" George said rather faintly.

"Why would we joke about something this serious?" Arthur asked tiredly, cleaning his glasses on his robes.

"BECAUSE THAT BLOODY SCHOOL DOESN'T EXIST!" Ron bellowed.

"RONALD WEASLEY! I will NOT tolerate that language under this roof!" Molly shrieked.

"Well, Gin," George said slowly, "I've always pictured you at Hogwarts, but if this is what you want then I guess I'm alright with it."

"Yeah," Fred added. "We'll just have to send you pranks through owl post."

"You're not going," Ron insisted, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ginny snapped. "And why not?" she demanded. "Because you won't have the glory of lording over me next year in school? Because you won't be the only one who's so special, what with having a famous friend?"

Ron turned bright red. "I'm not friends with Harry because he's famous!"

"No, but you won't deny that you like having the benefits of having a famous friend," she said in a low voice. "Makes you feel _special_ now, doesn't it? You wouldn't feel like the center of attention if your ickle baby sister went off to some other school."

"You're sure you want to go, Gin?" Percy asked worriedly.

"I do, Perce, I really do," Ginny assured him. "Madame Boucher's sent me loads of information about the school; I can show it to you after dinner, if you want."

"I'd like that very much," he said, with an uncharacteristic look of glee on his face.

"I can't believe this!" Ron fumed. "Am I the only one who thinks it's absolutely mad to send Ginny off to an unknown school when she's so young?" He left the table and stomped up the stairs. When he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him so loudly they could hear the ghoul trying to match the noise level Ron was making down in the kitchen.

"Oh dear," Molly said worriedly, before embracing her daughter in a hug. "I'm sure he'll come round eventually," she added hastily, seeing tears begin to form in Ginny's eyes.

"Er, Ginny?" Percy asked hesitantly. "I'm stuffed, do you want to show me those papers now?"

Ginny hastily wiped her eyes as she stepped out of her mother's warm embrace. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea." The two of them started up the stairs.

Fred and George could sense the tension in the kitchen as their two siblings left.

"Well, Mum," Fred began.

"Excellent dinner, as always," George continued.

"Absolutely smashing to see you, Dad,"

"But now we have things to do,"

"Places to be,"

"And all that jazz." Both of them bolted up the stairs to escape to their mercifully tensionless room.

Molly sighed and buried her face in her hands. "I told them to behave before we got home," she said, her voice muffled.

"Ron's just jealous, he'll get over it soon enough," Arthur said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

"I can only hope so," she said, sweeping her wand over the remaining dishes. The food began packing itself up while the dishes flew gracefully into the sink and began scrubbing themselves.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Thank you again for reading! As always, many, many thanks to my marvelous beta, Lynn._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**_Pre-emptive Author's Note:_**

_I speak a very tiny bit of French very poorly, so if you do happen to speak/read it, please excuse my poor grammar from cobbling things together or my reliance of online translators. For those of you in the same boat as me, the translations are at the end! This will also apply for the next few chapters.  
_

* * *

Ginny surveyed her room one last time before she turned to leave to go off to school for an entire year. She had discovered that Father Christmas was, in fact, her mum, as she had awoken one night to her mother poking about her room and changing the colors of various objects. After quite a bit of shouting on Ginny's part and quite a bit of shushing and a Silencing charm on her mum's part, it was finally admitted that this was her Christmas present and her parents were "Father Christmas". While her room hadn't really changed, she felt that it was now a much better representation of a growing girl than the girlish theme it had had previously.

Gone were the pink carpets and walls. The walls were now a warm shade of yellow with a blue border at the top. The carpet, though still worn, was a pale blue and the stubborn stain in the corner had finally faded away. The butterflies were now a slightly darker shade of yellow than the walls and the bedspread and curtains were pale blue. The thick white paint that had covered the furniture had been stripped away, leaving light, well polished wood behind. When she had gone downstairs Christmas morning, there was a box full of blue and yellow beads of all shades that formed a curtain in her doorway. It had proved more useful as a deterrent than the lock on her door ever had since her brothers, despite all their supposed Gryffindor courage, were terrified of walking through strings of beads. She loved running through the beads and couldn't fathom why her brothers were so terrified of them.

Her brothers had mixed reactions to her news. Percy had nearly become a nuisance; constantly borrowing the books she had been sent. Although he had initially been approving of her decision, he not been pleased with the discovery that most of the witches had gone on to live quiet lives, avoiding the spotlight of their successes. He began to press her to do something more with her life when she graduated, to which she tartly informed him that she wouldn't be graduating for over a decade and that was not something either of them needed to worry about yet. Thankfully, George had intervened, chucking a Dungbomb at Percy's head after that and then whisked Ginny up to his room to plan pranks. He and Fred had been devastated when they found out that they would not be allowed send her _anything._ In order to rectify this unforeseen problem, they successfully taught her how to think of pranks on her feet. After hours cooped up in their room, they finally agreed that they would send letters full of detailed instructions on other pranks.

The rest of her brothers were less enthusiastic. Ron had promptly written to Bill and Charlie, explaining his skewed view of what was happening at home. Bill and Charlie had both written her letters saying how disappointed they were that she was going to miss out on all the joys and wonders of Hogwarts. Charlie was a bit more understanding than Bill and Ron, since he had left Hogwarts after his sixth year to go study dragons in an exchange program, but neither Bill nor Ron was on speaking terms with her. Bill, having been Head Boy, felt that it was vitally important for her to attend Hogwarts and not "some pansy school" and spent four feet of parchment trying to convince her not to go. He wrote to their parents after her brief reply, telling them that she was making a grave mistake and they should not allow her to do so. Ron similarly had not spoken or looked at her since she informed him of her decision.

"Are you ready, dear?" her mother's voice called softly up the stairs, interrupting her musings. "Madame Boucher is ready and the Portkey will be leaving shortly." Madame Boucher had arrived rather early in the morning, shortly after her parents had gotten up, to finalize the arrangements for Ginny.

Ginny took a last look at her "new" old room, running a finger gently through the beaded curtain. "Coming, Mum," she answered back, hearing her door click shut behind her. She forced back a sob and straightened her shoulders, anything to distract her from the already overwhelming homesickness she was feeling. Setting her jaw, she made her way down to the kitchen.

Her mother and father were sitting at the table with a rather elegant looking woman who looked to be a few years older than her parents. She was wearing traditionally cut robes in a rich plum color which contrasted brilliantly with her honey blonde hair.

"Ah, Ginevra, how nice to meet you at last," the woman, whom she assumed to be Madame Boucher, said warmly as she rose from the table.

"'Lo," Ginny said quietly, looking at her for a moment before turning her attention to a scuff on her shoe.

Molly Weasley laughed, but the effect was spoiled by a hiccup, clearly indicating that she had been sobbing before Ginny came down. "She's hardly ever this shy," she told Madame Boucher with a watery smile.

"She seems stronger and braver than most," she said in an effort to console Molly. "I've had many girls cling to their parents in hysterics."

"Well, Gin," her father said quietly. "The Portkey is set to go to Paris in a minute so I wish you the best and I want to hear from you often."

Ginny finally looked up and hugged her father tightly. "I will, Dad," she promised. "I love you. I'll see you during the Easter holidays." At that, her eyes began watering again and she felt her mother pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, Ginny," she sobbed. "You be on your best behavior there, you hear me? I don't want any letters coming back telling me how much trouble you're getting into."

"I love you too, Mum," Ginny whispered.

"I do hate to interrupt, but we need to get going if we don't want to miss the Portkey," Madame Boucher said.

Molly mopped her eyes as Arthur came and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"We're so proud of you Gin," he said softly as Ginny placed a finger onto the crumpled soda can.

"Five, four, three, two, one…" The Burrow disappeared around her in a swirling mix of colors as she felt a crochet hook grab onto her naval and whisk her away.

"There now," Madame Boucher said as they landed in a cobbled street similar to Diagon Alley. "How are you, Ginevra?"

"I'm alright," Ginny whispered, not looking up at the tall woman standing next to her.

"Of course you aren't," the woman said kindly. "You're leaving home earlier than most to someplace completely foreign and you can't even speak the language! It's perfectly alright to be scared." Ginny looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes, causing the woman to chuckle softly and give her a soft smile. "See what I mean? It's alright to feel scared; I'd be surprised if you weren't. The best thing to do right now is to get your mind off it, so let's go shopping for your things."

After setting down the cobbled street at a quick pace, they turned into a robe shop. Ginny wandered around the store while Madame Boucher talked to the sales clerk before she was called over to be measured for her robes.

"Now Ginevra, you will be getting four sets of school robes, three sets of dress robes, ten sets of everyday robes, a light cloak, a heavy cloak, five nightgowns, and ten sets of underthings." She paused here, taking in Ginny's wide eyed shock. "Now, you are required to wear your school robes during the day when classes are being held, but outside of those times, you are not allowed to wear them and you must wear your other robes. While Madame Guillemette and I choose your dress robes, you need to pick out your everyday robes. Make sure that you get a good selection for all seasons: we won't be back here for a year and a half!"

With that she and Madame Guillemette, as it seemed the sales clerk was called, settled down with a thick book, leaving Ginny to go find her everyday robes. At first she was overwhelmed: more often than not she wore her brother's hand-me-down Muggle clothes and on rare occasions her mother took her to the shabby second-hand robe store in Diagon Alley to get something more appropriate for a little girl, she had never had any new clothes outside of the sweaters her mum knit everyone for Christmas. After a considerable time, she had selected ten robes she felt were appropriate and fit well. She brought them over to where Madame Boucher and Madame Guillemette were still pouring over the thick book.

"Ah, good, Ginevra," Madame Boucher said, after checking the robes Ginny had selected. "We've narrowed the selection down to five robes and would like to see them on you before we make a final decision. Put those robes on the table to your right."

Ginny gladly placed the heavy pile of robes she had been holding onto the designated table. Madame Guillemette gestured for her to walk into a small changing room towards the back of the store where the five sets of dress robes were ready for her to try on. She grimaced at the robe on the top of the pile and hoped this one was _not_ chosen. The robe was shockingly pink and rather poofy. For all that she disliked how it looked she marveled at how well it fit her as she walked out of the changing room.

Both women's eyes bugged out for a moment before Madame Guillemette gasped, "Non, _non_!" and pushed Ginny back into the changing room. Pleased at their less than satisfactory reaction, Ginny pulled off the offending robe and hung it neatly on a hook on the far wall. The next robe looked far more tasteful in midnight-blue velvet with a thick, pale blue, satiny sash secured by an intricate silver pin. The flowing hem of the robes swirled around her ankles as she walked out of the changing room. She twisted slightly from side to side as she walked towards Madames Boucher and Guillemette who smiled kindly at her antics.

"Turn around, please," Madame Boucher said. Ginny quickly spun in a half circle making the skirt form a bell shape. "Lovely, simply lovely, we'll be keeping that one." She continued talking to Madame Guillemette in soft French so Ginny walked back into the changing room.

The next robe was a lovely shade of emerald green, but the taffeta fabric felt foreign on her skin. The bottom puckered oddly, making her resemble a large, green, overused pincushion. Smoothing the skirt down as best she could, she walked out of the changing room for a third time.

"Hmm," Madame Boucher examined critically. "The green is absolutely lovely with your hair and skin, but I'm not sure about the cut." She began talking softly to Madame Guillemette in French, pointing at various parts of the dress and asking Ginny to turn several times. Finally the two looked satisfied and Madame Guillemette approached Ginny with her short, thick wand outstretched. Ginny's eyes widened as the wand was pointed at the skirt, smoothing it completely and deflating several inches. She shivered as the wand delicately traced along her wrists before tracing along the hem of the robes. The elderly Frenchwoman stepped back and examined her critically before breaking into a broad smile. "Yes, that's quite lovely, we'll be taking that one too."

Ginny looked down and saw that there was now delicate silver embroidery along the wrists and hem of the robe. Smiling softly, she skipped back to the changing room.

After placing the robe into the "keepers" pile, she looked at the next robe and gasped in shock. This robe was an ivory color with a thick champagne colored neckline to give the illusion that it was off-the-shoulders, but thin ivory straps would keep the robe from slipping. Matching gloves that reached up under the neckline accompanied the splendid robe. She carefully pulled the robe on, smoothing it down before pulling the gloves on.

"Excellent," Madame Boucher said, standing when Ginny walked out of the changing room. "We'll be taking those three then. Change into one of the new everyday robes, Ginevra, I'll settle the rest of this and have the robes sent back to the castle."

Ginny nodded mutely as she pulled on a robe with a flowing white bottom. She suddenly felt very tired and hungry and realized that she hadn't eaten breakfast that morning and it was nearly noon.

"Now that that's all taken care of," Madame Boucher said, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves, "let's go find something to eat. There's a lovely boulangerie, Le Gateau Dansant, just up the street."

Ginny nodded meekly and followed the taller woman down the cobbled street. She sank gratefully into a chair at a small table while Madame Boucher went up to the counter and ordered some food. She returned a few minutes later with two steaming cups of hot chocolate and two baguettes stuffed with cheese floating in front of her.

"Now let's see how much you read of those primers I sent you," she said with a smile. "This is…"

Ginny frowned. "Unn bag-ette eat from-age."

Madame Boucher winced. "Your grasp of words is good, but your grammar and pronunciation is horrible. Repeat after me: Une baguette avec du fromage."

Ginny repeated it several more times before it was deemed passable. "You'll do fine once you start tomorrow. Now do you see those bright flowers, over by that window? Those are…"

* * *

Several hours later, they found themselves in a bookstore. Madame Boucher was discussing what books they needed while Ginny was browsing the very small English literature section in the store. She had become engrossed in a book when she was startled by a tap on her shoulder.

"There's an extensive library back at the palace," she was assured. "Now come, we must get you a wand, even if you won't be really using it all that much yet."

Ginny carefully put the book where she found it, a huge grin forming on her face. Money had been particularly tight last summer and Ron couldn't even get a new wand. Luckily, Charlie's old one had been mauled by a gnome when he was de-gnoming the garden a few years back and Ron was able to use that one, with the promise that he'd get one of his very own as soon as they could afford it. In her excitement, she barely realized where she was going until she was forcefully steered into a small, dingy shopfront. Much to her surprise, the room inside was bright, clean, and spacious.

"Bonjour," an elderly witch greeted them as she appeared from the depths of one of the many aisles. "Quelle langue petite celle-ci parle-t-elle?"

"English," Madame Boucher said with a smile.

"Ah, welcome, little one. You're here for your first wand, I presume?"

Ginny was too excited to speak and opted for nodding an affirmative with a huge grin on her face.

"Very well then, my dear, hop on that stool and we'll get you measured." She flicked her wand, conjouring a tape measure which began flying about Ginny the instant she stepped onto the stool. Madame Boucher settled herself onto the comfortable looking sofa while the elderly woman strode spritely down one aisle and pulled out a thin, carved box. She flicked her wand again, causing the tape measure to vanish, then handed Ginny the box. "Cherry and unicorn hair, 24 cm, solid. Give it a whirl!"

Ginny gently pulled the box open to reveal a plain cherry wand. Picking it up out of the box, she held it gingerly in her fingers. She grimaced as she gave it a half-hearted whirl. This felt _nothing_ like what her mother had told her about how wands felt.

"No? Hmm, try this one, beech and Veela hair, 23 cm. Very light."

Ginny opened the new box that had appeared in her hand and picked up the wand from inside, but this one didn't feel right either. She gave it another half-hearted whirl before it was replaced yet again.

"Birch and dragon heartstring, 28 cm. Very rigid."

This wand felt better than the others, but nothing happened when she attempted to wave it around. The elderly woman got a gleam in her eye when Ginny mentioned this. "Really now. Hmm, willow and phoenix feather, 30 cm. Very springy."

This wand was intricately carved, just like the box, with a smooth handle. Ginny hoped that this one liked her simply because of how pretty it looked sitting in the box. Her spirits plummeted as she picked it up and waived it around with no results.

"I thought as much," the woman muttered. "Yew and dragon heartstring, 27 cm. Quite a contrast, good for a variety of work."

Ginny didn't even bother to look down at this wand. She was getting frustrated at how long it was taking to find _her_ wand. Flicking it towards the door, it was snatched out of her hand yet again.

"No, hmm? Hazel and dragon heartstring, 26 cm. One of the best wands I have for charms and defensive spells."

Ginny gasped as she grasped the handle and looked down. It was a beautiful wand, highly polished and a red color a few shades darker than her hair. While she admired the simple carvings on it that somehow looked more beautiful than the intricate carvings on the wand she previously admired, she was most amazed at the feeling of warmth and the surge of power coursing through her veins. _This_ is what it was supposed to feel like. She whirled the wand in front of her, streaming out blue stars and silver dust.

"Excellent!" Turning to Madame Boucher, who had been watching everything from her comfortable seat, she continued. "Je suppose que vous voudriez avoir la facture envoyée à l'academie?"

"Oui, oui, s'il vous plait. Nous prendrons le baton avec nous, je ne pensons pas qu'elle veut laisser aller de elle."

"C'est comprehensible. Bonjour!"

Ginny tried listening in to the conversation but could only pick out a word here and there. She tried to comfort herself by looking down at her new wand, but suddenly felt weak and exhausted. She had been studying her primers for months and still couldn't understand what was going on! How had she ever expected that she would survive subjects that she had never learned before? She sank into the sofa that Madame Boucher had vacated in order to go speak to the elderly witch. Against her wishes, her eyelids began fluttering shut.

"Come along, Ginevra," a kindly voice said, jarring her out of her thoughts. She suddenly found a concerned Madame Boucher at eye level with her. "Are you tired, dear? There's a couple more stops but since you came early, we can go tomorrow if you want." When Ginny didn't answer, she sighed and pulled her to her feet. "We'll head back to the palace and get you settled into your new room, but first you need to leave this shop." She absently plodded out the door, stopping when her feet hit the now familiar cobblestones. Her arm was being tightly grasped, then she was gasping for air as she was forced down a tight tube.

"First time Apparating, hmm?" Madame Boucher seemed determined to carry on a one-way conversation as she half carried Ginny down a gravel path. "It's always a bit rough the first time, but you'll get used to it." They stopped before a large wooden door, which she pressed her palm against and whispered a password. "Even if you discover the password for the outer doors, you won't be able to get back in without a professor," she warned as she ushered a listless Ginny through the doorway. "Normally I'd walk you back to your room, but I really think you need to lie down, so I'll have a house-elf bring you there. Poissee!"

A well-cared for house-elf wearing a dark purple tea towel embroidered with silver appeared. "Oui, madame?" it squeaked, bowing deeply.

"Amenez Mlle Weasley à sa pièce svp. Elle sera servie le dîner là en une heure."

The house-elf bowed again, before grasping onto Ginny's wrist. There was a sudden crack and Ginny noticed a change in scenery, but most notable was the large, comfortable looking bed. Not bothering to change out of her clothes, she dropped her heavy cloak on the ground and collapsed onto the bed before falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**_Translations:_**

_Une baguette avec du fromage_ = A baguette with cheese

_Quelle langue petite celle-ci parle-t-elle?_ = What language does the little one speak?

_Je suppose que vous voudriez avoir la facture envoyée à l'academie?_ = I suppose you would like the bill sent to the school?

_Oui, oui, s'il vous plait. Nous prendrons le baton avec nous, je ne pensons pas qu'elle veut laisser aller de elle. _= Yes, yes please. We'll bring the wand with us, I don't think she wants to let go of it.

_C'est comprehensible_ = That's understandable

_Amenez Mlle Weasley à sa pièce svp. Elle sera servie le dîner là en une heure_ = Please bring Miss Weasley to her room. She will be served dinner there in one hour.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Once again, sorry about the French! As usual, many, many thanks to my beta, Lynn._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ginny awoke with a start in a room she didn't recognize. She panicked at first, but then realized that she must be at the palace of L'Academie des Sorcieres. Pale winter sunlight was streaming in the narrow windows on the wall to her right, dancing on the grey stone walls which were neither rough nor smooth. She looked down and realized the bed that she had slept in was larger than her bed at the Burrow, yet still smaller than her parents' bed. It was covered in crisp white sheets and a heavenly dark purple comforter. She clutched at the comforter as she sank back into the pile of pillows and noticed that everything seemed – feathery. There was a featherbed underneath the sheets, the comforter was stuffed with feathers, and the pillows she was leaning against were plump with yet more feathers. She giggled as she imagined a gigantic flock of bald birds flying into her room, squawking about the loss of their feathers.

After sighing contentedly, she glanced around the rest of the room. The very narrow windows were set deep into the wall: the sill must be at least a foot deep while the windows had to be less than a foot wide. The glass separating the warmth of her room from the chilly air outside was wavy and colorful. There was a heavy wooden door to her right that she presumed led out into a hallway. A large wooden desk stood in the corner of the room with a rather uncomfortable looking chair, and a sturdy bookcase. Grimacing, she finally noticed a wardrobe next to her bed, so she hopped out of bed in the hopes of getting dressed for the day.

As soon as her feet hit the floor, she let out a shrill yelp. The floor was made of the same stone as the walls and very cold. Glancing down, she spied her shoes that she had had the good sense to kick off before collapsing into the bed the day before. She slipped them back on, flinching at their chill, then walked over to the wardrobe. She pulled out a lovely pink and grey plaid robe and a matching grey cardigan. She loved the cardigan that went with this robe since it allowed her to wear it in any weather and the cardigan itself was much nicer than the jumpers her mother made everyone at Christmas. She yelped again as she shed her clothes from the previous day and the cold air hit her skin, so she quickly put on some underwear before getting into the robes.

Once she was dressed, she walked over to the bookcase and examined the books she had gotten yesterday. All of the books were in French, which she was still struggling to read. Thumbing through them, she was very glad to see that they contained very useful images in addition to pure theory. She had always tried to read through her brother's books, but found them to be very boring. These had pictures on how to correctly stir a cauldron for a particular potion and the proper wand movements for spells. She finally settled on reading the etiquette text. She had just decided to give up on reading for the moment and see what was outside of her room when she heard a knock at the door.

She stood up, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her new robe, before approaching the door. She opened it a crack, peering out and saw a dark blue eye peering back at her. She jumped back, not letting go of the door handle, thus causing the door to spring open.

"Oh, good, you're up," Madame Boucher's voice floated into the room. "I trust you slept well?"

Ginny turned and saw the tall woman standing in the doorway. "Yes, thanks. I'm sorry I fell asleep on you yesterday."

Madame Boucher waved her hand dismissively. "No worries there, Ginevra. All incoming students are assigned an advisor and all of my other students are still with their families, allowing us plenty of time to get you settled in." She pulled out her wand and began waving it about and suddenly there was a small round table and two upholstered dining chairs in the center of the room. "I've already arranged for the House-Elves to send us breakfast up here. It's not a normal occurrence so I don't advise getting used to it."

Ginny's mouth began watering as food appeared on the table. She grabbed a chocolate filled pastry and began stuffing it in her mouth but a hand caught her wrist and forced her to put the pastry back on her plate.

"Ginevra," the older woman scolded. "Try to breathe while you eat! Here, watch me." She picked up another one of the flakey pastries delicately, raised it to her mouth, and took a small bite. She placed it back on her plate while she chewed and savored the pastry then picked it back up and repeated the process after swallowing. Ginny was amazed: not a single crumb was out of place during the entire procedure.

"You don't want to act as if you haven't eaten in a month," Madame Boucher lectured. "Enjoy your food, the house-elves are very good at what they do so eating _should_ be enjoyable. Savor the texture and flavor of the food before you swallow it, that should slow you down so you eat at a lady-like pace."

Ginny opened her mouth to inform her that she had grown up with six very hungry older brothers and she had never had a chance to savor her food, but thought better of it, closing her mouth and nodding. She picked up her pastry again, grimacing as flakey crumbs dusted the plate, raised it to her mouth, and took a bite. She was surprised at the flakey, butter texture of the pastry contrasted with the smoother, harder texture of the chocolate. Her eyes widened in surprise as she placed the pastry back on her plate.

"Much better," Madame Boucher said, watching her in satisfaction. "It takes practice but keep remembering to do that and you'll be all set."

* * *

Several hours later, they were back on the cobbled street in the wizarding section of Paris. Ginny had just gotten several cauldrons and a number of stirring rods from the apothecary and she was at a loss of what else she needed to get. Madame Boucher wasn't letting on as to where the next stop was, she was telling Ginny about how it was her responsibility to keep her cauldrons in good condition and to keep track of which one was needed for classes. Apparently the materials of the cauldrons and stirring rods affected how potions were brewed, something her brothers had never bothered to tell her.

"…But yes, I had been trying to brew a spot remover potion in my copper cauldron and it was still brewing when I needed it for class. I decided to bring my pewter one along, but it turned out we were brewing a Strengthening Solution that day, which expands rapidly if not brewed in a copper cauldron! Ah, here we are!" She steered Ginny into a shop on their left.

Once Ginny's eyes had adjusted to the blindingly bright light in the shop, her jaw dropped in amazement. There were shelves upon shelves of shoes as far as the eye could see. All the shoes within her sight were pretty, dainty little things, nothing like the sensible, laced up leather ankle boots she had always worn. She had never had new shoes of her own either: her brothers shoes never fit her so her mother would take her down to the second-hand shoe store in Diagon Alley and purchase the most sensible, boring, cheapest, and easily reparable shoes she could find. Sometimes she wished that she could fit into her brothers hand-me-down shoes because some of the shoes had a stench in them that not even the strongest charms could get rid of. If she had to have stinky old shoes, she'd at least like to recognize who the stench belonged to.

"Hmm, I don't suppose you're used to wearing heels?" Ginny shook her head. "Well, the uniform shoes are required to be one inch high for your first year and they will increase in increments of one-quarter of an inch every year following. Let's look for your everyday shoes to have heels between half an inch and three-quarters of an inch." She strode off down the long aisle, elegant robes billowing out behind her. Ginny walked quickly to keep up with her, gasping at the variety of shoes she passed. They finally arrived at a section with considerably duller colors than the bright yellows and aquamarines at the front of the store. Most of these shoes had shorter heels that Ginny felt that she might be able to walk in if she took care.

Moments later a shopkeeper came running up to them. "Madame Boucher," he said with a slight bow. "Comment est-ce que je peux vous aider?"

Madame Boucher raised her eyebrows and looked towards Ginny, nodding slightly. Ginny's mouth went dry as she realized _she_ needed to talk to this man. "Er – Je vuex… chaussures? Pour l'academie."

"Ahh! Oui, vous etes arrives au meilleur magasin! Toutes," he spread his arms out and gestured to the entire store, "les chaussures ont des charmes parfaits d'ajustement." Ginny racked her brain, wishing this man would speak more slowly, but he continued talking at a mile a minute. "Je suis dans l'atelier." He gave them another funny little bow before turning around and briskly walking towards the back of the shop.

"You're doing much better today, Ginevra," Madame Boucher's voice came through the haze in her mind as she still desperately tried to understand what she had been told. "Your pronunciation could still use improvement and you still need to work on your phrasing: _Je recherche des chaussures d'école, sil vous plais_ would probably have been a better choice. Nonetheless, you were able to communicate your intentions, which is a step in the right direction. Now tell me, what did you pick up from what he said to you?"

"Er –" Ginny desperately tried to clear her mind. "Something about the shop and a charm on the shoes."

"Very good!" Ginny dared a peak upwards and saw a broad smile on her teacher's face. "Specifically, he said that you had come to the right shop if you wanted shoes and that the shoes here have perfect-fit charms on them." When Ginny's mouth gaped open, she continued. "Please close your mouth, Ginevra, no one else wants to see your tonsils. Yes, I know how expensive perfect-fit charms are, but it's a requirement so that we don't have to come back every time someone has a growth spurt." She leaned a little closer and whispered conspiratorially, "I personally think whoever made the silly rule just didn't like shopping."

* * *

Several hours later, they emerged from the shop, having bought half a dozen pairs of new shoes. There was the standard school shoe, two pairs of low black heels for winter wear, sandals in black, brown, and cream, and a pair of fuzzy slippers for the chilly mornings.. She clutched Madame Boucher's arm as they Apparated back to the palace, just in time for lunch. She gasped in surprise when they reached the palace. She had seen it yesterday, to be sure, but she had been more asleep than awake and hadn't been too concerned about taking in her surroundings. Today they seemed to have arrived at a different entrance, since she was certain that she would've noticed the heat and humidity of the greenhouses they were currently standing in. She desperately wanted to take off her shoes and socks and wriggle her feet in the damp earth while breathing in the heavy fragrance from the surrounding flowers, but she knew that wouldn't be allowed. After pausing to take a deep breath, she hurried after Madame Boucher.

They were walking briskly along a stone path in the greenhouses when there was a sudden rumble of thunder. Ginny, startled, stopped and squinted around, noticing dark clouds swirling behind her in the impossibly high ceiling of the greenhouse. "_Merde,_" Madame Boucher hissed, frantically thrusting her wand out in front of her. A large burgundy umbrella appeared in mid-air, which she caught, unfurling the fabric while beckoning Ginny towards her. Once she was safely under the large umbrella, she was assaulted by her teacher's wand. "There," she said grimly. "I've cast Impertuble charms on the two of us so we won't get drenched to the skin. We must hurry though, these pathways become streams during the weekly storms. I had forgotten today was a thunderstorm day."

Ginny nodded, quite terrified, and began to jog so that she could remain under the cover of the umbrella. Moments later the rain hit with ferocity she had never seen, even during the harshest of summer storms. They broke out into a run as the water began lapping at their feet.

Finally, after what seemed hours but really was only a few minutes, they approached a heavy wooden door. Madame Boucher thrust the umbrella into Ginny's hands as she placed a hand on the door and began whispering frantically. Finally, she grabbed the handle and threw the door open, pushing Ginny inside and all the while vanishing the umbrella.

"I'm terribly sorry about that," she said, brushing a wet tendril out of her face. While Ginny was bone dry, her teacher clearly paid less attention to the strength of the charms she placed on herself. The hair on the left side of her head was soaked and there was a curious, perfectly round, circle of damp on the front of her robes. "I forgot that today is Friday. Since there are no lessons on Friday afternoons, there's a scheduled thunderstorm in the greenhouses during that time. The other afternoons simply see a soft rain shower that doesn't interfere with lessons. We should be able to see it through these windows."

Sure enough, there were large windows looking out onto the greenhouses. The path they had been walking on moments before was now a tumultuous stream. "It's ingenious, isn't it?" Madame Boucher continued softly. "The paths turn into aqueducts during the storms. You haven't seen them, but the far end of the greenhouses is arid and never gets any rain. All of the water there comes from these weekly storms and is brought by the paths."

"How tall are they?" Ginny asked. "I couldn't see the top of them and the clouds were much higher than I thought they'd be."

"The top is level with the top of the palace, so six stories. The apartments above us are the most coveted by the faculty since the windows can be open year-round. Rumor has it that I'm slated to get one next year when Madame Vizzolli retires, but we'll see. Come now, let's go see what's for lunch."

The dining hall was very different from what Ginny had heard the Great Hall at Hogwarts was like. There were many round tables, each seating eight people, with a very large oval table in the center of the room where all of the teachers sat. The tables were made of a dark, highly polished wood and the chairs had deep purple, velvet cushions. There were a few other girls who looked about her age sitting at one of the tables. Madame Boucher steered her over to this table and introduced her.

"Ginevra," she said to the girls, pointing at Ginny. "Helena," she pointed at a girl with wavy blonde hair, "Isabella," a girl with very thick, curly black hair with bluish highlights, "Olga," a girl with pin-straight chestnut hair, "et Sophia. Bon appétit!"

"Bonjour?" Ginny said meekly as she sat down. The purple cushion on the chair was truly heavenly, she decided. She'd have to write a letter to Fred and George about how she could go about sneaking one of them up to her room.

"Bonjour," the girl introduced as Helena responded. "Je suis Lena, je n'aime pas Helena." She wrinkled her nose.

"Je n'aime pas Isabella," the black haired girl commented. "Je suis Isa."

"J'_aime_ Olga," the chestnut haired girl huffed.

Sophia laughed. She and Olga looked to be identical twins. "Mere est Olga," she whispered loudly. "J'ai le meilleur nom des deux de nous."

Everyone laughed at that and Ginny began eating. The food was strange to her, but still palatable. There were little baguettes no longer than her hand that she finally decided to stuff with cheese, similar to her lunch the previous day. After she had finished her sandwich, she decided to try talking to the others again, who were remarkably quiet.

"Je suis –" she screwed her nose up trying to recall the proper words, "Englis?"

"Angleterre," Olga corrected her. "Nous sommes le Pologne."

"_La_ Pologne!" Sophia shouted gleefully. "Vous avez obtenu quelque chose fausse pour une fois!"

"Qu-est qe?" Isa said, frowning. "Je suis L'Espange."

"Je suis Deutschland," Lena said, shrugging. "Je deteste le francais nom pour Deutschland," she added as Olga opened her mouth.

"Ah, bein." A teacher Ginny didn't recognize came over to the table, placing her hand on the back of Isa's chair. "Tu es prêt, Isabella?"

"Oui," she said, getting out of her chair. "Bonjour!"

Ginny frowned, wondering where she was going, before she smelled Madame Boucher's perfume. "Are you ready to return to your rooms, Ginevra?"

"Oh, yes," she said, as she scraped her chair back against the stone floor. "Bonjour!" she said, waving to the others as she left.

"So this is the start of the immersion program," Madame Boucher told her as they began walking up a beautifully crafted stone staircase. "I'm still going to speak to you in English when we're along a little while longer, but when you're with the others, French is the only common language amongst you so you'll be forced to speak it."

"The other professor –"

"That would be Madame Nilsson, the Herbology professor," Madame Boucher informed her.

"Right, she spoke to Isa in French, right?"

"Isabella is from Spain. Spanish is very similar to French and the immersion program was optional for her. She wisely decided that she would be better off having a full grasp of French by the time she began taking lessons."

"I couldn't understand half of what Olga and Sophia were saying either," Ginny stated glumly.

Madame Boucher laughed. "They're twins, Ginevra, highly competitive twins at that. While you began studying French from your primers solely for the purpose of school, they began learning it as a competition. Olga typically flaunts her large vocabulary while Sophia nitpicks her grammar. They also began speaking to each other solely in French months ago whereas you had no one to speak it with. You're in the same boat as Helena, you aren't alone."

Ginny walked along quietly, barely noticing the beautiful marble busts swiveling around the hallway to remark at her magnificent hair color. She barely paid attention to the lecture on the importance of the busts, what famous painting that was on the wall, or the magnificence of the inlay charms used to add the delicate strands of silver to the dark woodwork. She nearly ran over Madame Boucher when she stopped in front of a richly decorated archway.

"Ginevra, pay attention," she scolded. "As I was saying, this is the dormitory for your year. There are six of you, so two of the bedrooms have been sealed off. The door in the center is the entrance to the lavatory. Now, you have the afternoon to get settled into your room: all of your packages should have arrived by now. I'll come pick you up later to make sure you don't get lost on the way to dinner." Her eyes twinkled at this and Ginny suddenly realized that she hadn't been particularly sneaky in not paying attention. She had the grace to look sheepish and stared resolutely at her scuffed black boots. When she looked up she realized she was alone in the hallway, so she trudged over to the door marked _Ginevra Weasley_ and pushed it open, resolving to spend the entire afternoon studying her primers.

* * *

_**Translations**_

Comment est-ce que je peux vous aider? – _How may I help you?_ (This is a translation from Babelfish, I think a rough translation is _How is it that I may help you?_)

Je vuex… chaussures? Pour l'academie – _I want… shoes? For the academy_

Ahh! Oui, vous etes arrives au meilleur magasin – _Ahh! Yes, you have arrived at the best shop._

Toutes les chaussures ont des charmes parfaits d'ajustement – _All the shoes have perfect-fit charms_

Je suis dans l'atelier – _I am in the workshop_

Je recherche des chaussures d'école, sil vous plais – _I look for school shoes, please_

Merde – _shit_

Je suis Lena, je n'aime pas Helena – _I am Lena, I don't like Helena_

Je n'aime pas Isabella, je suis Isa – _I don't like Isabella, I am Isa_

J'aime Olga – _I like Olga_

Mere est Olga, J'ai le meilleur nom des deux de nous – _Mother is Olga, I have the best name of the two of us_

Je suis – Angleterre, Pologne, Espagne – _I am England, Poland, Spain_

Vous avez obtenu quelque chose fausse pour une fois – _You got something wrong for once!_

Qu-est qe – _What _(this is spelled the way it sounds, I can't recall the spelling, it might be qu-est ce)

Je deteste le francais nom pour Deutschland – _I hate the French name for Germany_

Tu es prêt, Isabella – _Are you ready, Isabella_

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_As always, thanks to my marvelous beta, Lynn! This story wouldn't be half so awesome without her.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ginny flung the door to her dormitory room open as she made a beeline to her soft bed. It was mid-August and the cooling charms cast around the palace were weakest near the dormitories so she was sweltering in her school robes. Ginny had just finished taking her Arthimancy and Pre-Calculus final exams, the last for the semester. Remembering the torturous conversation she had with Olga the previous day where the other girl wanted to go over every answer on the Chemistry exam, she lazily lifted her wand and shot a locking charm at the door. Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face, her thoughts turned to the one thing every fifth year dreaded: career proposals.

L'Academie des Sorceries prided itself on the very unique program it offered for the older girls. After five years of comprehensive study, each student was required to pick a career path and their sixth through tenth years were spent honing skills needed for them to excel in that field. Unfortunately, choosing a career path was not so simple as declaring what they wanted to study. On the day after exams each fifth year was required to make an appeal in front of all the professors as to why they choose this particular path and how their current grades indicated that they would help their success. Ginny was slated to go from 13:00 to 14:00, right after lunch.

Ginny had an unusual request for further study that was unique, creative, and one she could easily excel at. She only hoped that she could argue her case strongly enough that it would be accepted to receive the professors approval. She had loved Quidditch since she was a little girl, constantly begging her brothers to play with her, and had long ago convinced Madame Boucher that she functioned best if she was allowed to let excess energy through flying. Madame Schulz, the languages professor, had apparently been quite a flyer in her day, so she took Ginny into Paris to buy her a new broom. After getting over the shock of having a new broom, let alone one of the fastest ones on the market, the two met on Monday and Thursday evenings to go flying over the grounds after dinner. Ginny was getting quite good, literally flying circles around Madame Schulz, and wanted to pursue a career in Quidditch. However, she knew that this was an impractical lifetime career choice since she would likely be retiring within ten years of the start of her career, barring any injuries. She had met a friend of her fathers, Ludo Bagman, who had been a Quidditch star in his youth, but his image became more ludicrous the longer he tried to cling to it. She clearly didn't want that to happen so she tried in vain to think of other career options that might interest her.

A few months later, she had a stroke of brilliance. She loved Quidditch, but she also loved clothes. More specifically, she was slightly annoyed every year when they went out to buy clothes. Muggle clothes were often cheaper than Wizarding robes, particularly when there was a good exchange rate between Wizarding coinage and the funny paper Muggles school, all the girls were required to wear robes. Purchasing Muggle clothing was not an option. While Ginny appreciated the high quality and the designer names attached to her robes, she never even bothered to pack any when she went home during the Christmas breaks. Once she was home, she'd quickly slip into her brother's tattered hand-me-down jeans and t-shirts. Ginny was the first to admit that the loose, flowing robes were more comfortable in the dead of summer, but jeans and pants were much warmer in the winter. She really wished the Muggle pant trend would catch on while she was flying because they guaranteed that her knickers would never be visible to the entire world.

Unfortunately, there was a little problem with her plan. Only the very poor in the Wizarding world ventured into the Muggle world for clothing so there was an associated stigma with Muggle fashions. Ginny was hopeful that since styles had been updated successfully at some point in time it could be done again. If she could slowly begin to integrate modern Muggle styles in with Wizarding clothing, it should be eventually accepted. Surely she wasn't the only one in their world that had this same thought process.

Heaving a great sigh, Ginny pulled herself off the bed with a Herculean effort and slowly peeled off her uniform robes in favor of a light nightgown. _I'll think more clearly in the morning once I've gotten sleep, food, and caffeine into my system_, she admitted to herself tiredly as she slowly plaited her hair. She flicked her wand at the window, causing the drapes to snap shut, and gave another twist towards her bookcase, sending a book soaring towards her, feebly fanning her face. Placing her wand on her nightstand, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

* * *

Shortly after Ginny had seated herself at one of the round tables in the dining hall, she spotted her best friend, Lena, plodding towards her. She had presented her appeal to become a magical chef to the professors from 11:00 to 12:00, right before lunch. Reaching the table, she slumped into the open chair next to Ginny.

"That bad?" Ginny asked sympathetically.

"Well, I _think_ I did alright," Lena sighed as she buttered a roll. "I emphasized my grades in potions and transfiguration and they seemed satisfied with that." She promptly tossed the entire roll into her mouth at once. "I shu'nt ev 'ipd bkefst," she said through a mouthful of roll.

"Lena, that's disgusting, you're reminding me of Ron," Ginny informed her primly, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Sorry," she said, shrugging unapologetically. "Eat up, I skipped breakfast and that was the hardest part of my presentation. You should have seen Madame Mancini: I thought for sure she'd have a stroke every time my stomach grumbled."

Ginny laughed at the thought of their strict etiquette teacher. Poor Lena always came in last in their class for etiquette lessons.

"Well? How'd the rest of it go?"

Lena shrugged again. "Not too rough. I didn't bother preparing a speech like Olga did. She was right before me, you know, and she looked ghastly coming out." Ginny chuckled again, thinking of the obnoxious perfectionist. "Just know your argument and wing it, that's what I did."

Ginny sighed and wrung her hands in her lap, resisting the temptation to rest her head on the table. Madame Mancini had all but given up on Lena but if both girls started blatantly ignoring the lessons she had drilled into their heads she would be sure to swoop down on them. "I'm just not sure how confident I am about presenting both ideas," she lamented.

"Then don't," Lena said bluntly, viciously hacking a piece of steak to bits. "It's not too late to pick one or the other."

Ginny groaned. "How many times must I tell you that I couldn't forgive myself if I only picked one? I'm a damn good flyer, you've seen me, and I'm not about to let that go to waste and live with the regret for the rest of my life. At the same time, I will live a life full of regrets if I'm stuck being one of those old fuddy-duddies who can only live in the glory days of their youth and refuse to accept the fact that they are decades off their prime."

"That's exactly what you need to say! Just stretch it out for an hour or so," Lena beamed at Ginny. Ginny gave her friend an exhausted look before pushing her plate towards the center of the table. "Oh no you don't," Lena said hurriedly, whipping out her wand and flicking it towards Ginny, forcing her to sit upright. "You are not making the same mistake I did, now eat up!"

* * *

Ginny felt that proposing her idea after lunch was a mixed blessing. She was able to acquaint herself with the room itself before all the professors arrived but her anxious queasiness was not helped in the least by lunch. The fact that Lena channeled Mrs. Weasley's spirit during lunch and force-fed her nearly twice as much food as she could eat was certainly only made her queasiness worse. She conjured a flowerpot to discretely place next to the podium in case her stomach decided to rebel during her appeal. She tucked it under her arm and approached the door, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her door before turning the knob.

The presentation room, to her great surprise, was clearly younger than the rest of the palace. It was shaped in a semi-circle with a vaulted ceiling whose peak was flush with the wall connecting it to the palace. She counted eleven lofty windows with large panes of glass and hearing her muted footsteps, she glanced down to see that the flooring was aged planks of wood, rather than the cold marble tiles present in the main areas of the palace. Glancing at the heavy wooden podium at the center of the room, she placed the flowerpot discretely out of view as she examined the room further.

There were no desks or tables, as she had expected, to separate her from the professors. A line of old fashioned armchairs followed the curve of the room. While they did not look immediately out of place or ostentatious in the room, Ginny's eye quickly caught onto the expensive, intricate charms that had been interwoven into the furniture. The wood remained dark with a high shine that would not be otherwise possible with the amount of light they were exposed to. The dark purple velvet showed no signs of crushing, fading, or other signs of age. She had only heard of these types of charms in her readings to prepare her for this presentation, never before had she seen them in person.

After her eyes had given the perimeter of the room one last scan, she glanced at her watch and noted that she had five minutes before the professors would arrive. She quickly transfigured the podium into a full length mirror to give one last check of her appearance. What good would it do to look a mess while proclaiming one of her goals in life was to revolutionize the fashion industry?

Brushing back a few strands of hair and straightening her robes one last time, she transfigured the mirror back to its original form moments before she heard pops of Apparition as the professors appeared before their apparently designated armchair. Ginny was envious: the students and the families of the professors were required to walk throughout the large palace, but the wards were specifically tuned to allow professors to apparate from place to place inside both the palace and the extensive grounds.

"We are here at the thirteenth hour of the fifteenth day of the eighth month of the year nineteen-ninety-seven to hear Ginevra Molly Weasley's plans for her future," stated the soft voice of the headmistress, which instantly silenced any sounds in the room. "Please enlighten us, Mddm. Weasley."

Ginny nervously wet her lips and threw a glance at the flowerpot before she began. "I wish to follow in the same manner as few others who have attended this prestigious school have. I have not one, but two plans I wish to present." Several professors let out small gasps of surprise, but the headmistress gracefully gestured with a lined hand for Ginny to continue. "As many of you know, Madame Schulz has taken me flying twice a week since my first year. My love of flying along with my skill has only increased as the years have passed. Unfortunately, much of flying and the competitive sports world is reliant on youth, which I will not possess forever. Once I leave the world of professional flying, I would like to enter the world of fashion. To be more specific, I would like to gradually begin to incorporate Muggle ideas into Wizarding fashion, which quite frankly, is centuries behind what is found in the Muggle world."

There was a flurry of whispers and movements throughout the room as the professors were clearly surprised at the two vastly different careers.

"Silence, please," the Headmistress commanded softly, causing all whispers and rustling to cease immediately. "You do realize, Ginevra, the great responsibility that comes with two career paths? You will have nearly double the classes as your peers."

Ginny nodded. "Yes, Madame, I do."

"Very well then," the Headmistress responded, inclining her head. "Please continue with your argument."

"Well, as I just said, I'm getting quite good at flying. I understand the limitations of why the school cannot have a Quidditch team, however I do play it at home with my brothers." Many of the professors nodded knowingly at this, having participated in backyard games of Quidditch or Shuntbumps as children. "It's possible that I'm getting ahead of myself, but I am able to keep up with my brothers, nearly all of whom have played competitively at Hogwarts."

"How do you know they aren't simply going easy on you, their younger sister?" Madame Miller, the Transfiguration professor, asked.

Ginny smiled. "My brothers were expecting and training me to play for my house team at Hogwarts before I came here," she explained. "My brother Bill taught me many tricks to make sure I don't lose the Quaffle, Charlie taught me how to keep my eyes out for the Snitch while staying out of everyone's way, and my brothers Fred and George taught me how to avoid Bludgers, even when I'm distracted. I'll admit that I'm not quite as good as Charlie was at Seeking, but he was offered several professional positions at the end of his sixth year."

"As you mentioned before, the school does not have a Quidditch team, how do you plan on practicing? I'm sure that all the charms in the world placed on the equipment would not simulate the same environment that a competitive team could provide," Madame Schulz pointed out.

"I've given that thought as well and I've discovered that there is an amateur league nearby, _The Bluebirds_. With the permission of the school, I would like to join them to gain competitive experience."

"That can be arranged," the Headmistress acknowledged. "Let us move onto your second career choice, fashion design. You do realize that your ideas are quite risky?"

"Yes, Madame, I do," Ginny acknowledged firmly. "However, I feel that I could create great changes in the world should my idea succeed. Even if it does not progress as far as I'd like, I still think I will have made a large, valuable impact on the world."

A large, genuine smile graced the Headmistress's lined face, the first Ginny had seen in the nearly six years she had attended the school. "_That_, my dear Ginevra, is precisely what we hope for from all our students," she said so softly Ginny had to lean in to hear her. "Now, why don't you tell us what it is that you _want_ to accomplish…"

* * *

Ginny spent the next forty-five minutes answering questions about her two career choices, growing more confident with each new question and every passing minute that allowed her lunch to digest. She practically skipped out of the room when she was dismissed and promptly bumped into Lena.

"Well, how'd it go?" she demanded.

"Splendidly," Ginny answered with a grin. "I really think that they'll approve it. But what are you doing down here? We get to go home at 7:00 tomorrow! We need to pack!"

Lena made a face. "I'm going to bribe a house-elf into doing it this year, honestly. I just want to sit on my bed and watch the ceiling until it's time to leave."

Lena's eldest brother had married a Muggleborn witch who had introduced her to something called _television_ two years ago. She became enthralled by it and had invented a charm that would morph the grains in her wooden ceiling to her books while her books read themselves aloud. She claimed that it was nothing like the real thing but would have to do while she was at school. Ginny absolutely loved watching some of the tales with her.

"That sounds wonderful but I don't feel like getting in trouble for bribing the house elves," Ginny sighed. "I might join you after I finish packing."

"Great!" Lena beamed at her friend. "Hurry up, I'll make spiced pumpkin juice!"

* * *

After spending the night drinking spiced pumpkin juice and watching _Pride and Prejudice_ on Lena's ceiling, Ginny blearily wiped her eyes and hurried back into her room, moments before Madame Boucher came in and handed her a pair of socks.

"Here you are Ginevra," she said holding out the socks. "The one with the green toe will bring you home in –" she paused to check her watch, "72 seconds. The sock with the blue toe will bring you back here at 14:00 on September 14. Make sure you tell your mother I said hello!"

"Thank you and I will," Ginny promised, taking the proffered socks and sat on her trunk. "Have a good break, Madame!"

A minute later she felt the familiar tug of the Portkey and after swirling around for another minute, she landed in the kitchen of the Burrow.

"Ginny!" her mother's excited cry came as she was engulfed in a tight hug. "How are you? Oh stand up and let me look at you properly. That robe looks absolutely lovely on you! The Gryffindor in me never would let me buy green robes but that light shade goes lovely with your hair. Yes, you're sprouting like a beanstalk just as your brothers did and I'm sure that school feeds you even less than Hogwarts. Sit down, I've made eggs and sausages for breakfast."

_This is home,_ Ginny thought happily as her mother began fussing over her and piling her plate with food.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

****_As always, a huge thank you to my amazing beta, Lynn!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6–A New Law**

**MAY 15 2002**

_**NEW MARRIAGE LAW ENACTED BY MINISTRY**_

_A ministry spokesperson held a press-conference late last night._

"_It has come to the attention of the Ministry that more and more magical children being born are, well, not magical. Many in the ministry believe this to be the result of breeding with Muggles and we must stop this practice immediately. Purebloods may only marry purebloods, half-bloods may only marry half-bloods, and Muggleborns may only marry Muggleborns. Since our numbers dwindled drastically in the recent years due to civil war, we have also decided to make marriage compulsory for witches of child-bearing age and at least two offspring must be born to the couple within the first 5 years of marriage. The punishment if these conditions are not met is for the witch or wizard's wand to be snapped in half. Furthermore, for a fee, a witch or wizard can view a list of all eligible partners which includes a lengthy personal record of individuals in addition to personal photographs. If someone particular catches your fancy, it will be possible to have a marriage contract drawn up between the two, even without the other parties consent. We hope that these additional features will increase the coffers of the Ministry such that we will not be forced to raise taxes to pay for the ongoing reconstruction from the previously mentioned civil war. Thank you and good night."_

_As he stepped down from the podium, many people were far too busy trying to process this new law to ask many questions. As a result, we at the Daily Prophet, have convinced him to come to a private meeting tonight and answer individual questions. Please owl any questions, comments, or concerns you have about this new law and we'll select the best of the bunch to ask him tonight!_

Draco placed his teacup back on the table and barely restrained the urge to bury his face in his hands. Both his parents had greatly influenced and supported this law as it went through the Ministry of Magic. He briefly wondered why his father didn't actually work in the Ministry: he had more than enough money to buy a comfortable, influential position in the upper ranks without actually soiling his hands running for the position of Minister himself. He had spent the year after Draco's graduation from Hogwarts teaching him how to run the family business, Malfoy Holdings, before officially retiring. Nowadays he could be found lounging under canopies in his mother's gardens alternatively studying the Dark Arts and finances when not meddling around in the Ministry.

Draco's job as the head of Malfoy Holdings was actually quite easy. It was a figurehead position with just enough work to make sure his subordinates didn't have complete control. It had been like this for generations and appeared to work quite well as the Malfoy family had amassed quite a sizeable fortune. Unfortunately, he still was required to be in his office from 8:30 AM to 4:30 PM every weekday. He had tried to push the limits of this the first few weeks after he took over the company, but his father came into his bedroom every morning, roaring at him to get up and how such things build character. Finally, a well placed Stinging Hex had convinced him that he would be in his office at 8:30 AM sharp every day.

Unfortunately, he was still not ready for surprises such as this to be handled at 7:30 AM. Couldn't one of his parents at least given him a heads up that this would be officially passed and in today's paper? Just because he knew it was coming didn't mean that he was prepared for it.

"You've seen the paper then?" Lucius Malfoy's cold drawl came echoing across the dining hall. Draco nodded glumly, grasping his teacup once again, hoping that if he got more caffeine in his system this would all be passed off as an awful dream. As he did, he noticed his father's spidery hand reach out and take the paper from his spot at the head of the table. "Hmm… going to have to speak to old Fysbutts about that, they must've changed that clause last night. Why wouldn't he have told me?"

"So it's official then?" Draco asked glumly, staring at the bottom of his now empty teacup.

"Hmm, quite," came his father's familiar drawl from behind the paper. "You may have the day off, I imagine your mother will want to drag you down to the Ministry to choose a wife. Since you haven't told us about seeing anyone then anyone you _have_ been seeing is completely unacceptable, do you understand?"

"Yes," Draco replied, motioning the teapot to refill his teacup while he pulled an Invigorating Draught out of his pocket and added it to the fresh tea. This really was much too early in the morning to be dealing with this sort of thing and he really _was_ too busy with work to even think of entertaining a female companion. _Figurehead my arse. The only way it'd be a figurehead position is if I blindly signed every form that came into the office, but that would be ludicrous._ Taking a gulp of tea he instantly felt the potion take effect. It was not a moment too soon.

"Lucius! Lucius! Have you seen the paper?" his mother gasped as she ran, yes _ran_, into the dining hall. Draco barely managed to keep his jaw off the floor and was certain he would not have been able to manage that feat had he not just taken the Invigorating Draught. He hastily gulped at his tea again.

"Yes, Cissy, I even managed to keep some sense of decorum while I read it," Lucius drawled, clearly amused at his wife's highly unusual antics. He doted on his wife as much as he was harsh on his son. Narcissa could do little wrong, or at least excusable, but Draco must always strive towards perfection in his eyes.

"Oh, you, you never get excited over anything," she sniffed, waving a hand in his direction. "Oh, good morning, Draco darling! I suppose _you_ have read the paper as well?"

"I have, Mother," he said, calmly until she floated over towards him, peppering his forehead in kisses, causing him to look up in alarm. "Mother, are you feeling alright this morning?" he demanded, wiping the stray lipstick from his forehead and unfortunate eyelid.

"Of course I am!" she said indignantly. "A mother has a right to be excited, does she not? It's not every day she gets to help her son choose a wife!"

Draco groaned inwardly. "Of course, Mother."

She beamed at him, patting his shoulder. "Would you like to join us, Lucius?" she asked sweetly. Draco smirked to himself, this was a surefire way to cause his father to lose his cold demeanor and scamper out of the room without a second glance back. His prediction was rewarded moments later.

Lucius bolted up from his chair, breathing in half his cup of tea in the process. "No, no, I'm fine," he managed to get out between coughs. "Must be getting into the office since Draco won't be going in today."

She put on a bright smile, calling out, "If you insist, darling!" as he exited the dining hall in only a slightly more mannered fashion than she had just entered it. "Well then, Draco, it looks like it's just you and me today."

Draco gulped. What on earth had he done to deserve this?

* * *

Draco suppressed another annoyed sigh. There were, apparently, 843 eligible pureblooded witches between the ages of 16 and 54 in Great Britain he could choose as a bride. So far both he and his mother had dismissed 785 potential brides (several simply because neither could bear him marrying a woman older than Narcissa and he quite a few more because they were too young for his tastes) and the ministry official who had stayed in the room to assist them had fallen asleep hours prior. Fortunately, their house-elf, Nodda, was permitted in the Ministry and had been able to bring them meals and snacks from the Manor. She had just finished serving them dessert so Draco guessed it was around 8 PM.

"Oh my," Narcissa breathed, pushing her dessert plate aside as she looked at the bridal registry once more. "Graduating this year from L'Academie des Sorcieres, interest in fashion, interest in _Quidditch_, are you listening to me Draco?"

"I'm sorry, what were you saying, Mother?" he asked, not looking up from the remnants of the cheesecake he had pulverized on his plate and was currently charming into various shapes and structures.

"I found a suitable woman who enjoys Quidditch," she huffed. "I thought _that_ might finally pique your interest."

Draco's eyes snapped up. "Are you serious, Mother?"

"Quite," she said, throwing him a pointed glare. She was clearly not pleased that he was more interested in playing with the remains of his cheesecake than paying attention to the task at hand. "Apparently she plays both the Chaser and Seeker positions."

This finally had his interest, especially since his mother approved of her enough that she was annoyed at his disinterest. "What else can you tell me about her?"

"Well," Narcissa started, treading lightly around the issue she knew he wouldn't like. "She's still in school, but she's attending L'Academie des Sorcieres."

"Where?" Draco asked, confused. He was sure the major Wizarding schools in Europe were Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beuxbatons. This school sounded very French and very unfamiliar.

"L'Academie des Sorcieres," Narcissa repeated, allowing herself a miniscule eye roll. "It's a highly exclusive school for witches. Morgana herself attended."

"Oh," Draco said, mildly impressed. "So she's smart then?"

"I can see the late hour is certainly not improving your reasoning skills," Narcissa muttered under her breath. "Well, not necessarily smart. She's most likely very intelligent, but the girls are handpicked to attend by a Seer. She obviously has some important role, visible or not, in society. There are several volumes in the library on the history of the school, I can have them sent to your room tomorrow."

"Er, no, that's quite alright," Draco stammered. The long day coupled with the early morning was not boding well for him. "Er, if she's still in school, how old is she?"

"It says here that she was born on 11 August 1981, so that'd make her 20 right now, just a year younger than yourself." Seeing her son's interest, Narcissa glanced sharply at him. "Would you like to see her page?"

"Yes, Mother," Draco asked in a rather bored fashion. He did have to pick a bride after all and this one seemed alright so far. He just hoped she didn't appear to be related to mountain trolls as the last two girls interested in Quidditch had been. His hopes were a bit higher, seekers generally had a small, light build and the two other girls had been beaters. "What! NO! Since when did Weasley have a sister?"

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Once again, thanks to my beta Lynn for her immense help in polishing up this chapter. I'm sorry it's shorter than usual, but the next chapter is already considerably longer than usual, so hopefully that'll make up for it. I hope you liked this chapter at any rate.  
_

_Thanks again to all you people who are reviewing, I try to respond to all of you but every now and then I accidentally skip one. I'll be going back to get all you guys I skipped right after this!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Breaking the News**

Ginny woke to sunlight filling her small, lavender room. '_Purple is the color of royalty,' _MadameBoucher instructed in her very first class here_. ' You, my dears, can never be anything less than the Muggle dynasties of old. Therefore, our school color is purple.' _As she stretched, her one graceless action of the day, she noticed one of the small, silvery school messenger owls sitting outside her window. Rising from her bed, Ginny opened the window to retrieve the letter. After a gentle hoot, the owl flew silently back over the grounds.

Ginny took the letter and placed it down at her desk, breaking the wax seal before carefully murmuring a flattening charm at the parchment.

_Ginevera,_

_I must speak with you on a matter of the utmost importance. Please come to my office as soon as you are ready for the day._

_Jeanne Boucher_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Ginny had grown quite used to the professor's short, nondescript epistles after ten years. 'A matter of utmost importance' could be anything ranging from the tea stain on her robes to the announcement of her father's death. She had heard from her family the previous day and there was no mention of anyone being in ill health, so she assumed it was more in line with the former. She dressed quickly, donning her deep purple day robes, and hurried off to see what the fuss was about.

"Come in," a soft voice responded to her knock at the door. Ginny walked gracefully into the room and gently shut the door behind her.

"Please, my dear, do take a seat. Would you care for coffee?" Professor Boucher inquired.

"Please, thank you," Ginny smiled. She was missing breakfast this morning to attend this meeting and caffeine at the very least should get her through the morning classes until she could get sustenance at lunch. The headmistress placed two steaming cups of coffee on the desk then looked at Ginny very gravely.

"First, it might be best if you read this." She handed Ginny a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet dated two days prior.

"W-what? They can't do this!" Ginny cried, her voice rising dangerously after she finished reading the article. The look on her face was one of a stunned, indignant fury. "I'm not even in the country, how does this affect me?"

"I'm afraid it does concern you. We received a notice yesterday morning that you are required to marry a Mr. Draco Malfoy. While we were able to convince them to hold off your marriage till you completed your studies, there is nothing more we can do." She sighed heavily. "Sadly, this is only a place of learning, not a fortress. The magic in these walls protects its students, but once you graduate, you are no longer protected."

"But – _how_? Why would the Ministry even think this is a good idea? That whole idea of reducing Squib births is simply ridiculous -" Madame Boucher held up a hand to stop one of Ginny's infamous tirades.

"Yes, we know the logic is fundamentally flawed. That, however, is nothing more than a cover story to push the Ministry officials own corrupt agenda. You see, while the Dark Lord was defeated nearly 5 years ago, the defeat was merely a small deterrent to his loyal followers with a single mindedness towards blood purity. They've managed to either take influential positions in the Ministry or they've bribed enough officials to have the same effect." She pursed her lips, clearly finding the situation very distasteful. "After pressing for specifics, I managed to get a copy of the actual law on Ministry records. What is written in the article only applies to half-bloods: Muggleborns are indeed expected to have 2 children within the first 5 years, but if they do not, they will be banished from the Wizarding community. Additionally, there is a very subtle difference in their binding ceremony where the Ministry official performs for them that includes a very strong contraceptive charm that lasts for nearly ten years."

"That's outrageous!" Ginny fumed. "They're purposefully driving the Muggleborns out!"

Madame Boucher's lips thinned even more. "It only gets worse – purebloods are expected to have at least 5 children within the first 10 years of marriage. Much like the Muggleborn binding ceremony, a very strong, permanent fertility charm is placed on the couple. You will almost certainly have no issues in having that number of children in the limited time frame."

Ginny groaned, resting her face in her hands. "You're sure that there's no way I can get out of this? At the rate this seems to be going I won't be able to play Quidditch again, if I'm going to be nearly constantly knocked up."

The Headmistress smiled sadly at her. "Yes, we noticed that too. As much as you love Quidditch and we all admire your quick-footed strategy, we feel that your efforts this last trimester would be better suited to focusing solely on robe-making. The headmistress and I have prepared a response to send to the Bluebirds after this had been discussed with you."

"Yes," Ginny answered dully. Her long-term plan had been to play Quidditch professionally and then open her own line of wizarding robes to slowly integrate Muggle styles into the Wizarding world so that they wouldn't look so out of place in the Muggle world. Now it seemed that she was going to just skip the Quidditch part and start her robe business right away.

"Well, I know this is certainly quite a bit to digest, so you have been granted leave from your classes for today." The professor stood, placing her hands on the large desk between them. "I am always here if you need to discuss this – _situation_." Her lip curled in disgust. "Unfortunately, I must also inform you that while your fiancé will leave you to your own devices while you finish your studies, he will be attending your graduation and will accompany you to the Ministry immediately afterwards for the binding ceremony."

* * *

Ginny sat at her desk that evening, seemingly not noticing the several sheets of blank parchment sitting in front of her. She needed to write to the Holyhead Harpies and tell them that as deeply honored as she was that they wished to recruit her to play Chaser for them, she would be unable to accept the offer due to her impending marriage. She also needed to write a letter to her parents to inform them of her upcoming nuptials. Finally, as twilight gave way to darkness, she turned the lamps in her room on with a swish of her wand and began writing.

_Dear Madame Morgan,_

_While I am extremely honored that I have been selected as a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, I regret to inform you that I will no longer be able to accept this position. Unfortunately circumstances beyond my control have arisen that make it impossible for me to retain the position._

_Regretfully,_

_Ginevera Weasley_

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm sure by now you've heard of that dreadful marriage law that the Ministry has put forth. I will expound my knowledge of it more when I see you in person at my graduation in June, though I'm sure Dad already knows quite a bit about it already. _

_Unfortunately, a wizard by the name of Draco Malfoy has obtained a marriage license compelling me to marry him. I really know nothing of him or his family; would it be possible for you to enlighten me? I already have a dislike for him because he is forcing this marriage on me, especially since it forced me to respond to Madam Morgan and decline the position of Chaser. I was so looking forward to being able to play Quidditch professionally and am now incensed even more at this dreadful law. Anyways, he will be attending my graduation and we will then leave together for the Ministry for the binding ceremony._

_I'm looking forward to seeing you at my graduation, even if our visit is going to be severely curtailed. _

_Love,_

_Ginny_

_Dear Miss Ginevra,_

_We regret to hear that you will be unable to play. _

_Many of us fear that this new legislation will cause the team to fall into ruin. Several major sponsers have left us already, sensing the hardships we face in retaining players. Many more will undoubtedly follow._

_Sincerely,_

_Madame Morgan_

_Dear Ginny,_

_Oh my dear! I am so sorry you got caught up in all this. When your father and I first heard about it we had hoped you would have some sort of immunity. I am sorry to hear it isn't the case, but at least you've been ever so graciously allowed to complete your schooling._

_As of right now, you and Ron seem to be the worst affected by this new law. Poor Ron and Hermione were devastated and have begun living as Muggles. The law doesn't apply to witches and wizards who are already married, which is fortunate for Bill and Fleur, though they're still required to have 2 children rather soon. Charlie is the only one exempt since he became a Romanian citizen quite a number of years ago. While I didn't agree with it at the time, right now I cannot be more grateful. Harry raced down to the Ministry and selected a woman to marry, that lovely girl Padma he's been seeing. It turns out he was not a moment too soon as there were quite a few other young ladies (and older women too!) ready to forcibly demand his hand in marriage._

_I know your father never liked Lucius Malfoy and your brother never liked his son, though the years have passed since Ron knew him. He's stayed mainly out of the papers, rather unlike Lucius at that age, and I think that lends to show that he's grown up. I can only hope this is true since you'll be marrying him soon enough. Your father did hear that Lucius demanded you be taken out of school immediately for the marriage, but Draco was insistent that you finish your schooling. While I see that as the only viable option, I am glad that he already appears to be sticking up for you, despite the fact that you've never met._

_Well dear, I hope you keep your spirits up. I know how hard it must've been for you to give up Quidditch, though really, I imagine the Holyhead Harpies will be out of commission till this silly law passes over._

_All my love,_

_Mum_

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_My name is Draco Malfoy and I am the one whom you will be marrying in a few short months. I'm quite glad to hear that you're pursuing a career in Quidditch as I'm rather fond of the sport myself. __However, m__y mother is more interested in your fashion design. I'm sure you'll be hearing from her shortly after this, she's been dying to write you._

_I would ask for your hand in marriage, but I rather imagine that should I ask your response would be in the negative._

_Draco Malfoy_

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_I trust you have already received my son's letter. Do tell me if you haven't as he promised he would send it out yesterday so I could finally write you today._

_I'm quite interested in your ideas in fashion design. I understand if you'll want to design your own dress, but it first must be approved by __me__. Send me a small, doll sized dress when you have the first draft and I'll send you my comments on it._

_Otherwise, I would very much like to meet up with you before the wedding to assess your wardrobe and see if we need to go shopping for anything. Please let me know of a suitable date and time for us to meet._

_Narcissa Malfoy_

_Draco Malfoy:_

_It is because of YOU and your silly marriage contract that I cannot play Quidditch. Prior to such occurrences I had obtained a position on the Holyhead Harpies reserve team, which I was obliged to decline. _

_I have indeed heard from your mother. I shall inform her that I did indeed receive your letter prior to hers. (Is she always quite so… pushy?)_

_No, I'm afraid that I would not accept your offer of marriage, though I have resigned myself to the fact that we are to be wed. I would greatly prefer to actually meet and know a person prior to marrying them. We'll most likely know each other for mere minutes before the deed is completed._

_Ginevra Weasley_

_Dear Mrs. Malfoy,_

_I have sent along my preliminary dress idea and designs. It has copious anti-copying charms on it, so it is in your best interests not to spread my work around to anyone's eyes but your own. I hope it meets your standards. I have been studying under Coco Chanel, perhaps you have heard of her? While she is rather elderly at this time, her eye remains exquisite and I have learned a great deal under her tutelage. (Her words, not mine.)_

_I am afraid that not even my family can meet with me during the school year, except under the most dire of circumstances. It would not be possible to arrange a visit between us prior to my becoming your daughter-in-law. I will also be expelled should I receive any item other than a letter, so I must implore you to not send any items to me. I assure you that the school provides quite an ample wardrobe and I am not in need of new, or more expensive, robes._

_Thank you,_

_Ginevera Weasley_

_Dear Mum,_

_I am glad that Charlie and Bill have at least managed to escape this mess. I am dreadfully sorry to hear about Ron and Hermione, it seems that Harry is the only one who managed a happy ending so far. How about Percy and George? You haven't mentioned them yet._

_I do hope you're right about this man. I could manage with someone who is mature, possibly even become friends, but I loathe the idea of spending the rest of my days with a bully. Divorce later really won't be an option, have you read the full law? I can't get around the permanent fidelity charm and the 15 year fertility charm. On the bright side, I'll get knocked up fairly quickly and given the nature of the marriage I doubt I'll be going past the 5 required children. You'll be swimming in grandchildren, Mum, at least you'll love that._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

_Dear Ginny,_

_I've enclosed a letter from Ron: we've set up some sort of mail thing so that he and Hermione can send letters to us the Muggle way, you'll have to ask your father about it since I'm really not sure how it works. The parchment they use is so strange! They've also been mailing us with only one stamp on the envelope, apparently one is quite enough._

_Percy was engaged to a lovely girl, Penelope Clearwater, but she's Muggleborn. However, since Percy is so high up in the Ministry he's been appealing to have them still quietly wed. It seems to be working in his favor right now, although it would be a purely private marriage: any children would be required to attend either Beuxbatons, Durmstrang, or be privately educated and Penelope would not be able to appear at social functions with Percy. Not at all a life I'd want, Penelope is currently pleading with him to move out of the country after they are married and he's considering it, though quite torn between his love of country and love of Penelope._

_George, well, he's proposed that he marry himself. I told him it wouldn't end well since he can't possibly have children with himself, but he feels strongly that the law will be repealed before it comes time for him to prove his offspring. I'm desperately hoping that some lovely young witch snaps him up. I can barely bear not seeing one of my babies, let alone two._

_You seem to be keeping a level head about this catastrophe. I feel so terribly for you, but I'm afraid the matter is out of our hands. _

_Love,  
Mum_

_Dear Ginny,_

_Hermione and I have moved in with the Grangers for the time being. Apparently Hogwarts isn't good enough for the Muggle world so we've got to sit through all these deadly boring classes and tests. There are some pretty interesting historical correlations between Muggle history and some of the stuff Binns droned on and on about. Nothing about the Goblin revolts, sadly enough._

_The Grangers are pushing us to go to someplace called Uni after we finish this blasted school work, apparently it's even more school work, but it gets you a better job. Muggles have this sport called football that I really like. It's got nothing on Quidditch, of course, but it makes due. I caught onto the rules and plays pretty quickly and I'm something called a "goalie" which is pretty much Keeper. I'm hoping to start getting into some minor leagues after I finish this blasted school and use that salary to support 'Mione and me while she goes to this Uni thing. (She really wants to go, have you ever seen that girl give up a chance for more homework? She's bloody crazy!)_

_Anyways, it's been really hard learning how to do stuff without a wand. It's incredible what these Muggles have achieved without magic, I'm beginning to see why Dad's so fascinated by them. Our wands are in safe keeping so the Ministry can't snap them in two, but they're under the care of a secret keeper, so I can't tell you where they are._

_I absolutely cannot believe you have to marry bloody Malfoy! He's such a git, always calling 'Mione a mudblood and making fun of Harry and me. I'd nearly recommend killing yourself, but since I can't bear the thought of not seeing my little sister again, how about you poison or strangle him on your wedding night? I'm sure George has some products you can use. Hermione also says that something called Greek Tragedies have a lot of good ideas as well._

_Love,_

_Ron_

_Ginevra Weasley,_

_Why on Earth would you decline a position on the Holyhead reserves? They're a fantastic team and that's coming from a Falcon's supporter. I know we've only got 5 years to have two children, but I would fully support you playing for three years and then we could both take fertility potions to ensure you have twins before the five years is up. Please do include me if you're planning on making huge life altering decisions._

_I'm afraid Mother is quite persistent in getting what she wants. I know that you said that you wouldn't be able to visit with her, but you should probably expect a visit from her in the coming months. She's ecstatic over some robe design you sent her but won't let me see it. Apparently you have at least persuaded her that you are a genius at copyright charms._

_I am sorry to hear that you wouldn't want to marry me if I asked you outright. I am writing to obtain permission from your headmistress to be able to send you a ring since we are engaged to be married and it would be most appropriate for you to wear my ring. I am trying to modify the traditional Malfoy setting somewhat since I do not like it in the least, so I am open to any feedback on ring settings that you might prefer._

_Draco_

_My dear Ginevra,_

_You should learn that as a Malfoy, nothing is impossible. I shall meet you for coffee on the twelfth of April at 15:00. Draco will also be accompanying me as we will be discussing the wedding plans, though I doubt he will have much input._

_Cordially,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

_Mme. Weasley:_

_Upon close observation of the nuances of the school rules, you are permitted, nay, required, to both receive and wear jewelry bestowed by a betrothed or husband. Please accept the engagement ring M. Malfoy will be bringing you on Thursday and congratulations on your upcoming nuptials._

_Headmistress Nobel _

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_Apparently you got your wish and I will take your ring on Friday. I would prefer something that does not require feather light charms and I vastly prefer white gold over yellow. Something small and understated would be most appreciated. Invisible would be ideal._

_The other issues I will discuss with you in person on Friday._

_Ginevra Weasley_

_

* * *

_

Ginny bit back another sigh of impatience as she waited in the dining hall for the Malfoy's to arrive. Her mother had made no mention of the elder Mr. Malfoy being dead, but he clearly wasn't coming. She looked again at the small table produced by the house elves which was now covered in flakey, buttery pastries, steaming hot coffee, and ice cold cream. Lena, as usual, had force fed her entirely too much food at lunch not two hours ago, so she feared she would not be able to eat a single bite or drink a single sip of coffee.

After a few minutes, she finally heard a noise at the entry way to the dining room.

"Le salle a manger, madame et monsieur," one of the house elves squeaked.

Ginny turned and saw two thin, very blond figures standing in the doorway with one of the house elves who was currently squishing its nose into the floor. "Merci," she said, thanking and dismissing the house elf, who gave her a toothy smile and disappeared with a loud crack.

"Ah, you must be Ginevra!" the woman exclaimed. "I am Narcissa Malfoy, and this is my son, Draco." The tall man beside her inclined his head as his name was mentioned.

"How do you do," Ginny said politely. "I usually go by Ginny, though I'm called Ginevra around here. Please, take a seat." She examined the man again and cursed her mother's genes. He was at least 6' and she was a more diminutive 5'3". She would need to look up a good charm to prevent neck pain since she'd be straining to look up at him for the rest of her life.

Narcissa began to prattle on about wedding plans and wedding lists as Ginny poured the coffee and offered pastries. She appeared to imagine something large and grand, while Ginny didn't want anything at all. She was very grateful when Draco finally interrupted.

"Mother," he said. "I'm not sure that I want anything large at all. Don't you agree, Ginny?"

"Oh yes," she said gratefully. "I was under the impression it would be a very simple bonding ceremony at the ministry with just the two of us."

Narcissa deflated at this news. "But… the flowers and the gown you've begun designing already, Ginny…"

"I'm sure they'll all look lovely in the wedding pictures," Draco cut in smoothly. "However, I agree with Ginny, just the two of us would be best, don't you agree?"

"I think that would be best," Ginny agreed. "I personally think it would be a bit of a farce to have a large wedding when we hardly know each other. I also understand that our families don't get along, I wouldn't want that to cause any problems."

"I suppose," Narcissa said rather faintly, appearing to wilt before their eyes.

"I'll tell you what, Mother," Draco said quickly. "You finish up with the arrangements for the wedding portraits _and_ I'll also let you plan the honeymoon for us. How does that sound?"

"I could do that," she said with a bit of a frown. "I still don't approve of this nonesense of not at least inviting family."

"Yes, that would be a great help, Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny chimed in. "I'm going to be dreadfully busy with school and I'm sure Draco is quite busy with whatever it is that he does. Since we have to be married so quickly," she shot a glare at Draco, "anything you could do would be a great help."

"I suppose," Narcissa said again, still frowning. "However, I don't want you to have to look back on your wedding as something your mother-in-law organized, I'd like for you both to have some part in this."

"We will," Ginny assured her, laying her hand gently over Narcissa's. The less involvement she had in this farce of a wedding the better. "Draco is taking care of the rings and I'm taking care of my dress. The model I sent you is charmed to update whenever I update so you'll be sure to see any changes and plan around those. I _am_ glad to see you haven't shown it to anyone…"

"How would you be able to tell?" she gasped.

Ginny smiled mischievously, her first real smile of the day. "Oh, well, you see, my eldest brother is a cursebreaker. We devised some rather nasty curses for people who go beyond what my copyright allows them to do. Never being able to find clothes that fit properly, sudden weight gain, and constant garish makeup are just some of the results of doing more than what I permitted with the clothes."

Draco began choking on his coffee as Narcissa turned whiter than Ginny had thought possible as she ticked off some of the side effects. "You have no reason to worry, Ginny," Narcissa finally managed to say. "Your creation is quite safe in my hands."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ginny said serenely, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Oh, before I forget," Draco said, as he pulled a box out of his pocket. "Here is the engagement ring for you, I did receive permission from your headmistress to give it to you."

Ginny stared helplessly at the ring. Not only did she have no desire to wear an engagement ring, it was positively ghastly. She was sure it would cover both her pinky finger and her middle finger while it sat on her ring finger, it was so large. The center stone was black and the size of a galleon, engraved with what she assumed was the Malfoy crest. Surrounding it were hundreds of tiny emeralds and diamonds. It was set in bright yellow gold.

She was shaken out of her horror when she heard a laugh of pure amusement. "Oh Merlin, you actually fell for it," Draco gasped out between laughs.

"This is the official Malfoy engagement ring," Narcissa explained, smiling beautifically at Ginny's horrified expression. "Very, _very_ few Malfoy brides have ever chosen to wear it."

Draco pulled a considerably tinier box out of another pocket in his robes. "I couldn't make it invisible, but I do hope you like this one better."

The second ring was infinitely smaller, consisting of a thin platinum band with a small, flawless diamond and an equally sized and equally flawless emerald held in with swirls of the silvery metal.

"This one didn't have to be charmed feather light and seemed to meet all your requirements. Your headmistress did inform me that if I gave you a ring you'd be required to wear it."

Ginny sighed. "She already informed me as well, but thank you, this is lovely." She grasped the ring and delicately slid it onto her finger, which molded to fit her finger automatically. As she did so, she could feel her heart sliding heavily into her stomach. This was official, then. She would really be getting married.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Ok, here's the seventh chapter, I hope you all enjoyed it! Many thanks again to my beta, Lynn!_**_  
_**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – The Biggest of Big Days**

Draco woke to sunlight streaming in through his windows and stifled a groan. This afternoon he would be marrying a witch he knew only through several months' of letters and a single meeting and they would be bound together for the rest of their natural lives. After cursing his fiancée for graduating in the morning rather than the afternoon, he went on to curse the Ministry even more heatedly for forcing him to get married in the first place. He wasn't ready to settle down and raise a couple of brats and he was still infuriated at the Ministry for the wording "women of child-bearing age". That meant some of the students at Hogwarts were expected to get married and pop out a couple of kids before they even had a chance to graduate! He had thought they would be exempt, but he had been more than shocked to see the very young, very scared faces in the Ministry book of eligible wives.

Continuing his grumbling, Draco finally got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He fought the urge to return to dreamland as the hot water pounded on his back. Finally stepping out from the warm stream, he quickly toweled dry, shivering in the morning's chill. Walking over to his closet, he began to ponder what he should wear. He was going to the graduation at L'Academie des Sorcieres, he was seeing his fiancée, presumably meeting his future in-laws, and then he was getting married. One would normally think that that would necessitate his finest dress robes, but he was so set against all of the happenings that he had half a mind to attend all the functions in his towel. Unfortunately, he knew his mother would balk at that idea, so with a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, he pulled out a sleek black dress robe made of feather-light silk.

After getting dressed, Draco began to wonder just how bad it would be to live as a Muggle for the rest of his life so he wouldn't have to go through with all of this. Unfortunately, he would never be able to see his parents again and his mother had made sure that that blasted marriage license was in perfect order so neither party could wriggle out of their obligations. Giving up the last of his hope, he heaved a heavy sigh and twisted on the spot, Apparating to Le Palais de l'Academie des Sorcieres.

* * *

Ginny woke on the day of her graduation and marriage to her wand growing gradually brighter and emitting a beeping sound at an ever increasing volume. In her fifth year, she had been required to take a course on spell creation and had created the charm herself and kept it a carefully guarded secret. Looking out her window, she could see that the sky was tinged with pink as the day began. Ginny arched her back and stretched like a cat before stepping into a shockingly violet bathrobe and heading to the bathroom for her morning's ablutions. She smiled upon entering the empty bathroom. Really, for being at school with the brightest witches her age, they still hadn't managed to figure out that if they got up early enough they could have the communal bathroom all to themselves. She chuckled softly to herself and shook her head a bit at that thought: her classmates were really far too obsessed with sleep for their own good.

As she stepped into the room, toothpaste appeared on her small toothbrush, which then leapt into her mouth and began to brush her teeth as she ran a brush through her thick hair. After the toothbrush had finally popped itself back into its holder, Ginny stepped into the largest of the shower stalls, still delighting in the fact that she had a quiet bathroom to herself with a warm stream of water. Sighing, she simply stood in the stream, desperately needing this quiet, peaceful solitude to wash away some of the tension that had been building for the past several months. There really wasn't anything for her to do anymore; her fate was going to come regardless of what she did and now it was best if she simply accepted the matter and dealt with it the best she could. Rinsing her hair a final time, she stepped out of the shower, whereupon her bathrobe floated over and wrapped itself around her. Picking up her wand, she siphoned the remaining water off of herself and shot a blast of hot air at her head to dry her hair.

Returning to her room, she sadly pulled out her final project: her wedding robe. Upon hearing of her upcoming nuptials, her professor, Madame Chanel, had insisted that her final project be her wedding robes. It really was a beautiful piece of work, one of the best she had ever done. Rather than choose a stark white that would not complement her complexion, she opted for rough silk in a rather warm, earthy shade of brown. It had a square neckline and a straight skirt that fell to one inch above the floor so she wouldn't trip over it. She made her first daring move away from traditional Wizarding fashions: the robe was sleeveless.

Her favorite part about the dress wasn't how it looked, but rather a unique charm she had invented for her clothing designs. While the dress was form fitting and contained no elastic, she was easily able to stretch the fabric, almost as if it were made of putty, as she pulled the dress over her head, but it snapped back to its original dimensions once she ceased adjusting it. Sitting down at her desk, she propped a large spellbook in front of her, flicked her wand, and the book instantly became a large mirror, effectively transforming her desk into a vanity. Pointing her wand to a cabinet on the other side of the room, all sorts of cosmetics and hair accessories flew towards her. She stared critically at the mirror sitting on her desk as hair brushes pulled her hair every which way and makeup brushes darted across her face.

Finally, all the brushes began to slow their movements and after their movements ceased all together, they flew back into the cabinet. Ginny examined her reflection in the mirror. All but two strands of hair had been curled and pulled back in a large, delicate looking golden clip, leaving the two straight strands at the side of her face. The makeup had been applied very subtly and in colors that would clash with neither her wedding robe nor the loose, deep purple graduation robes she would wear over her brown wedding robe. Sighing resignedly, she made a grand sweeping gesture with her wand, which caused her trunk to open and all of her items in the room to fly into it. After checking that everything was in the trunk neatly, she bewitched it to become feather-light and shrunk it before hanging it off her hairclip, securing it with a sticking spell. As a final touch, she reached for the final item on her desk, her engagement ring, which she had delightedly discovered would vanish from view for a few moments when the loose emerald was jostled within the setting. With one final mournful smile at the room that had been her home for the past eleven years, she walked out into the hallway, never once looking back.

* * *

The six graduates, Ginny, Lena, Isa, Sophia, Olga, and Marie, were lined up in front of Madame Nobel, the ancient Headmistress. "Now girls," she said cheerfully, "this is your final day at L'Academie des Sorcieres. I hope to hear great things about each and every one of you, and, who knows! Maybe some of you will come back to teach in these hallowed halls or proudly bring your own daughters here. I wish you all the very best of luck!"

Suddenly, a procession of deep purple robes came floating into the room. "Now," she began again, somewhat more sternly this time. "You should all know by now that the school color is purple." Normally this sort of statement was accompanied by a few titters, sighs, or even an _'Oh, not __**again**__,'_ as it was repeated quite frequently, but this morning all the young ladies were silent. "Purple was such a valuable color in days of old because the dye could only be obtained from snails in Tyre. These robes have not been dyed with inferior inks or charmed this shade of purple: they have been dyed, by hand, in the very dye from those precious snails. The only way in which these robes have been charmed is that they will always fit you and they will still be in pristine condition millennia from now. Furthermore, only a graduate of L'Academie des Sorcieres may touch these robes: they will have no substance to anyone else."

Ginny was stunned at the work that went into making these robes. She had had a great deal of practice and training in permanent color changing charms and had never once attempted to dye fabric. She also had little use for ever-wearing charms, because those would almost certainly ruin her business as a robemaker. Ginny, of course, knew of them and did cast them rarely on certain items, such as her wedding robes or other items of clothing that were of such great value they would be family heirlooms for generations to come. She was not aware of any charms that could prevent all but a few individuals from being able to grasp the robes as a solid material, but she supposed that Isabella, who had studied jewel crafting with the goblins, most likely knew spells such as those.

Ginny was startled out of her thoughts as she realized the other girls around her were busy adjusting their new robes and casting color changing charms at their shoes. Sophia had wisely transfigured one of the tapestries into a very large mirror so they could all examine their appearances before they went up in front of all their relatives and other world dignitaries. Although Ginny normally loved her vivid red hair, it clashed horribly with the deep purple of her robes. She quickly cast a charm and her hair became a light blonde. _I wish my hair didn't have to clash with everything_, she grumbled to herself. As the girls had just about finished primping themselves, a deep gong rang out, signaling them to walk out to the courtyard where the graduation ceremonies would take place.

* * *

Draco fidgeted in his chair waiting for the graduation to start and be over with. To hell with that, he just wished he could wake up screaming any minute now: he'd give anything to not be at his fiancée's graduation then off to his own wedding in a few short hours! His mother had taken up her duties in arranging a honeymoon for them, booking a "lovely" four week honeymoon. Her brilliant (Draco huffed at this in his head) plan was that the two of them would go off to the Ministry to be wed immediately after the graduation, pop back to the Manor to introduce Ginevra to Lucius and hand them a portkey that would whisk the newlyweds off to their honeymoon before Lucius could harm Ginevra. She would then spend the following four weeks softening Lucius to the idea of the marriage, since it was, after all, unbreakable, and his son would be banished from the wizarding world if he interfered with things. If he was still resisting the marriage after the honeymoon ended, she had sent several house elves to prepare a villa in southern France for her son and her new daughter-in-law. Draco thought that this was a bit excessive, but his mother knew his father's moods intimately - and how to handle his outbursts.

Finally, Draco heard a deep gong ring out signaling the beginning of the graduation ceremonies. He watched with mild disinterest as six girls walked through the very purple garden. He frowned as the last girl filed out: he was expecting it to be a simple task to pick out which of the girls was his fiancée since she had very distinctive red hair, but not one of the girls had red hair. He gave this some minor thought before phasing out the rest of the ceremonies while still applauding politely at all appropriate junctures. He finally snapped out of his reverie as he heard, "_Ginevra Weasley"_ called up to receive her diploma.

The girl's hair was not a vivid red, but rather a pale blonde. He frowned, wondering if she had decided to try and fit in with his family rather than her own, but he knew that wasn't right. She was quite independent and he was lucky she was taking the Malfoy name (and only because his mother had explicitly stated it in the marriage contract). An almighty cheer came up from the crowd as the six witches stood in a line with their wands aloft, shooting out purple and silver sparks.

* * *

"Mum! Dad! I did it!" the short blonde girl shrieked, running out towards a middle-aged, red haired couple moments after the ceremony had completed.

"Congratulations, m'dear!" the woman cried, embracing the young woman in what must have been a bone crushing embrace. Stepping back she held her youngest daughter at arm's length. "And just what have you done with your hair, young lady?"

The girl blushed. "I'm sorry, Mum, it just really didn't go well with these robes." She flicked her wand at her hair which turned to the vivid red Draco was so familiar with. She turned to embrace her father, at which point Draco decided to introduce himself.

"Congratulations, mademoiselle," he murmured, bowing shortly before her. Looking up, he saw that her previously happy face became filled with a sad resignation.

"Ah, yes… Mum, Dad, meet my fiancé, Draco," Ginny said politely.

"How do you do?" he asked them, equally politely. The Weasley patriarch glowered at him.

"I'd be better if my daughter wasn't being married this afternoon," he nearly growled.

"I am terribly sorry about that, but you would likely be saying that to another young man now if not me. Your daughter is quite a beautiful and gifted witch, a stunning combination if I do say so myself."

"You're perfectly right and Arthur knows that, he's just not ready to give up his baby girl just yet," the plump woman said to him kindly, placing a hand on his arm. "Just take good care of her for us, heaven knows her Bat Bogey hex is legendary, but you'll have to deal with me if I hear you aren't treating her properly."

"And myself and five older brothers, six if you count Harry," Mr. Weasley added darkly.

Ginny's face fell further at the mention of her brothers and Draco made a mental note to ask why that was and where they were later that afternoon. "I intend to treat her and our children with nothing more than the utmost respect. Regardless, why don't we get lunch before heading off to the Ministry?" he said to Ginny, turning to the elder Weasleys. "You are more than welcome to join us."

"Thank you, but we really must be heading home," Mrs. Weasley said, laying a hand on her husband's arm, noticing that his face had been growing steadily redder as the conversation had continued. "I'm sorry that we'll be missing your wedding."

"You mean signing the final contracts," Draco said darkly as Ginny shot him a warning glance.

"Really, Mum, it's not a wedding per say, so there's no need for you to be there," Ginny sighed.

"Well then, I suppose we shall see you in a month then," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice quavering. She quickly engulfed her only daughter in a tight hug before grabbing her husband's arm, Apparating them away.

"Where are we Apparating to?" Ginny asked.

"I'll take you, that's not a problem." Draco assured her. In one of her recent letters she had confessed that she was quite out of practice with Apparation and much preferred Flooing, even if it was a dirtier method of transport.

"Thank you," Ginny whispered.

Draco proffered an arm to Ginny, who moved towards him calmly but proceeded to hold his arm in a death grip. "I promise you won't lose your eyebrows this time," he whispered to her, recalling her last attempt at Apparating. He was rewarded with a hearty thwack on his arm, so he turned on the spot, leaving France behind them.

* * *

As soon as they arrived at the Ministry after a lunch that was less awkward than either had anticipated, Ginny removed her graduation robes and charmed her shoes brown once more. Draco was forced to admit that she did indeed look stunning as they walked to the appropriate office. Given the recent turn of events, the Ministry had given the option to simply have papers signed stating the couple was indeed married. There was a Ministry official to perform fidelity charms on every married couple in addition to the fertility charms on the pureblood couples and the strong conception charms on the Muggleborn couples.

Ginny, having already read and studied the law did not bother reading the papers and simply signed her name to the bottom. Draco, who had not studied the law but simply wanted to get out of there, and preferably wake up from his nightmare, also simply signed his name at the bottom. Needless to say, he was quite shocked when the official cast the two charms over the couple.

"What the bloody hell was that for!" he demanded loudly. Ginny sighed and pulled at his arm.

"Those were the fidelity and fertility charms," she said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Why would we need a fertility charm?" he asked aghast. He was horrified that the Ministry thought that he would have difficulties fathering children on his own, no matter how much he didn't want them right now.

"Why, to help you have the necessary five children within the next ten years!" the official boomed. "All those little bundles of joy… you are a pureblood couple after all."

Draco groaned as he took a closer look at the papers he had just finished signing.

"And the fidelity charm?" he asked sourly.

"Well, they wouldn't want us to taint the bloodlines with anything other than pure blood, now would they?" Ginny answered quietly.

"I suppose," he sighed resignedly before turning back to the official. "Where are the photos being taken?"

"Down the hall, second door on the left," he instructed before loudly calling out, "Next!"

Draco pulled a small box out of his pocket and Ginny pulled on a pair of cream elbow length gloves as they walked down the hall. Right before they reached the door he threw out his arm to stop Ginny.

"Wait," he said, opening the box. Inside were two simple platinum bands. "Can't have a picture without rings, now can we?"

"I suppose that would upset our mothers," Ginny giggled, pulling both her wedding band and engagement ring over the glove, praising perfect fit charms as both rings widened slightly to accommodate the extra fabric around her finger.

After spending an hour with the photographer that Narcissa Malfoy had specifically hired, rather than the standard photographers made available by the Ministry, they finally exited the Ministry.

"I suppose we've got to go see your parents now?" Ginny asked glumly, squinting into the bright sunlight.

"They'll want to see us before we head off, yes," Draco replied, handing her a pair of sunglass he had conjured. "Mother's holding the Portkey for us so we have to go see her anyways."

"Alright then," Ginny sighed. "No more Apparating after this."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

****OK, this is just a revision of Chapter 8, so I'm sure much of it looked familiar. I am finally picking this story up again and I'm finishing up the first draft of Chapter 9 right now. Thank you to anyone still reading this story!


	9. Apology and Sneak Peak

**Apology and Sneak Peak!**

I would like to apologize to everyone for tweaking all the chapters and possibly spamming inboxes. I was rereading and came across some things such as _Arthur's draw had dropped after reading the first line of the sentence and was still hanging open…_ that really irked me. As I'm sure you've noticed I also have ongoing battles with commas that I am trying to remedy. Needless to say, ignore the earlier chapters as many of the changes are minor – mostly grammatical, minor continuity errors, or stuff that spell check missed. Feel free to ignore them.

In other news, I have finally, after many, many months, finished the first rough draft of Chapter 9 and sent it off to my beta. Hopefully it will be up within the next couple of weeks. I will include a couple paragraphs from the rough draft as a thank you to all of you who have been so patient.

Finally, I think that before the story progresses any further, I need to clarify the issue of robes, since it's going to play an important background role. My first impression of robes that I gathered from the books when I first read them many moons ago was that they were akin to choir robes or graduation gowns. That in my mind has not changed very much over the years and I have found passages in the books that do support this idea. If people really want me to, I can write an accompanying essay for this story on my thoughts on what robes look like, but I think that "choir robes" and "graduation gowns" sums it up pretty nicely. Needless to say, if you keep thinking that "robes" look like what they wear in the movies, you'll be sorely confused in Chapter 10 (which yes, I've started working on!).

Anyways, onto the sneak peak!

* * *

"Draco, did you just spend all those Galleons just so we could be related to that blood-traitor lot?" he scowled.

"Well –" Draco began, but was interrupted by a hearty laugh coming from his bride.

"Really, Mr. Malfoy, have you never looked at your family tree? My grandmother was Cedrella Black, which means you became more closely related to 'that blood-traitor lot' when you married your wife." Ginny chuckled and shook her head while Lucius' face grew paler and stonier by the minute. Draco eyed his mother apprehensively.

"Well, dears," Narcissa said hastily. "I suppose it's high time you were off on your honeymoon! Best of luck, au revoir!" She thrust a small silver trinket at the two of them, which they both seized and were sucked off into the unknown.


	10. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note:**_

_As a heads up, I have changed the rating on this story to M. This chapter, as you may recall from the previous version, is not explicit but does allude to dubious or flat out non-consent. If this bothers you, you have been warned not to read further._

**Chapter 9 - Newport**

Ginny delicately covered her mouth as she gasped at the opulence of the room they entered. She was fairly well accustomed to displays of wealth, having spent the better part of the last ten years living in a palace, but she expected nothing similar of a private home that housed three people.

"Oh! My dear, your robe is exquisite!" a voice from behind them called out joyfully. Ginny and Draco turned around to see the elder Malfoy couple enter the room.

Lucius Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. "Don't tell me my only son married a _Weasley_," he snarled.

"Oh don't be silly, dear, she's not just a Weasley, she's a Malfoy now, after all. Besides, she just graduated from L'Academie des Sorcieres this morning, which I don't recall any other Malfoy bride doing before." She stopped chiding her husband to turn and look at Ginny again. "Really, darling, you absolutely outdid yourself with that robe."

"Draco, did you just spend all those Galleons just so we could be related to that blood-traitor lot?" he scowled.

"Well –" Draco began, but was interrupted by a hearty laugh coming from his bride.

"Really, Mr. Malfoy, have you never looked at your family tree? My grandmother was Cedrella Black, which means you became more closely related to 'that blood-traitor lot' when you married your wife." Ginny chuckled and shook her head while Lucius' face grew paler and stonier by the minute. Draco eyed his mother nervously.

"Well, dears," Narcissa said hastily. "I suppose it's high time you were off on your honeymoon! Best of luck, au revoir!" She thrust a small silver trinket at the two of them, which they both seized and were sucked off into the unknown.

* * *

After quite a bit more spinning than they were accustomed to, Draco and Ginny landed heavily in a bright, airy room. The sound of the sea crashing on the shore could be heard from a short distance away and a warm breeze caused the gauzy white drapes to billow out over the marble floors. Ginny let out of a sigh of contentment and sank onto the lavish cushions on the nearby sofa. Draco quirked an eyebrow at her behavior before noticing a note on the side table, which he promptly read.

_Welcome, my darlings, to Newport!_

_You have left England and are now in the States, more specifically the state of Rhode Island. While the Muggles in this area certainly outdid themselves on the architecture, you are in the only Wizarding mansion in the area. Three house elves are available to tend to your every whim: simply call for Pally, Mabby, or Tilly. _

_As per a true honeymooning couple, you have been confined to these chambers for the duration of your stay. There is a small dining room, a bedroom, a sitting room, and a bathroom, all of which should be more than enough to amuse yourselves with. Don't try to get out, you'll only hurt yourselves._

_I hope you have a wonderful week!_

_Mother_

Draco growled, startling Ginny. "What is it?" she asked warily.

"My mother is the most meddlesome woman I have ever met," he grit out.

"Why?" Ginny asked in alarm. Draco proceeded to relay the contents of the letter to his new wife. "What!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet as her hands planted themselves on her hips. "I'll find a way out, I'm sure of it. We had to study the architecture of Newport once and it's absolutely lovely, I'm not going to sit right next door and not make any sort of effort to see it."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea…" he began carefully.

"And why not?" she demanded.

"Well, you see, my parents are known for dabbling in the Dark Arts, there's really no telling what Mother's done to this place, what charms she's activated, what charms she's placed, that sort of thing. There really could be some nasty consequences for trying to break free without her express approval."

"We'll just see about that," Ginny said darkly, brandishing her wand and stalking out of the room.

* * *

Ginny sighed in frustration as she tried to attack the windows in the bedroom yet again. She had decided that the best course of action would be to try and free open a window since she best dealt with fabrics, but she was beginning to wish she had her brother, Bill, here to help her with curse breaking. She was currently surrounded by the white, gauzy material that covered the windows and the windows were every bit as covered as they were when she first started. Draco quietly waded into the room, waist high in the gauzy fabric.

"No luck, I gather?"

"No," Ginny sighed, collapsing onto a nearby chair. "I've tried every reduction spell I know and half of them simply seem to multiply the fabric rather than make it smaller."

"Ouch," Draco said sympathetically. "Have you tried to get to the window itself?"

Ginny threw him a dark glare. "_That_ was the very first thing I tried, you twit," she growled. "There are simply meters and meters of fabric obscuring the window here, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a spell similar to the multiplying ones used at high security vaults at Gringotts."

Draco pondered that for a moment. Given that he was waist high in material, he wouldn't be at all surprised if there was such a spell placed on the drapes, but Ginny was right, that was a very dangerous spell. Seemingly innocuous at first, it could potentially drown the victims in whatever material the spell had been placed on if they did not make an effort to stop getting past it.

"Why don't we try another route then?" he suggested. "See if there's, oh, I don't know, a hidden door or something."

Ginny glared at him. "If your mother put that sort of spell on the drapes, do you really think she'd leave a door around for us to simply waltz out of?"

"Probably not," Draco sighed. "But it's still worth a try, isn't it?"

After hours of searching a well placed revealing spell located a hidden door in the sitting room. It led to a dining room, which yet again, had obscured windows and no other visible means of entry.

"Well, I'm famished," Draco said, sinking into one of the chairs at the ornate table. "What do you say we call the elves and order some dinner before we search this room?"

"I suppose I'll think better on a full stomach," Ginny agreed, joining him at the table. "What were the elves names again?"

"Tilly!" Draco shouted brusquely, earning a glare from his new wife. A house elf appeared before them with a pop, pressing its nose against the floor.

"What can Tilly get Master?" it asked in a high pitched squeak.

"We'd like dinner for two, preferably some local specialty." He said in a bored tone, inspecting his meticulously clean fingernails.

"_Please_," Ginny added, tossing another glare towards her new husband as the elf popped out of the room. "I see that we're going to have to work on your manners towards elves."

"What? I treat them perfectly well!"

"You're quite rude to them," Ginny replied, as if speaking to a small child as she rolled her eyes. "No matter who they are, regardless of their station, they should always be treated with respect."

"I don't see any reason why," he frowned as the food appeared on the table.

Ginny quickly ladled out two bowls of the soup as she was quite hungry. "What is this?" Draco asked, frowning down at his bowl of creamy orange liquid.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him as she buttered a piece of bread. "You were the one that requested a 'local specialty'," she retorted, but she prodded the liquid with her wand, whisking it about and murmuring something that sounded rather guttural. Finally smoky lettering appeared above the dish, spelling out _Lobster Bisque_.

"There you go," Ginny said rubbing her temple and reaching for the glass of wine sitting in front of her.

"Where did you learn that?" Draco asked in amazement.

"My friend, Lena," Ginny said quietly, still massaging her left temple. "She studied magical culinary arts, an offshoot of potions, you know, but she's incredibly gifted in Charms as well. She invented that spell, along with a few others."

Draco barely managed to avoid choking on the bite of bread he had just eaten upon hearing this information. He gulped at his wine before asking incredulously, "She _invented_ it?"

"Oh yes, we had to take a class spell creation years ago and she had an absolute blast with it and never really stopped," Ginny said with a dismissive wave of her hand, before suddenly freezing and wrinkling her nose. "I suppose you're going to be the first to see my alarm charm now…"

"Is there something wrong with it?" he asked, alarmed.

"Oh no," Ginny assured him before eating a spoonful of the bisque, raising her eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the taste. "It's just that you're the first one to see it… I was hoping to take the secret to my grave. This is actually quite good," she said before eating more soup.

Draco looked down at the liquid, which he now noticed had unidentified lumps floating about in it. "Are you certain?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course I am," she snapped somewhat impatiently. "Eat up before it gets cold!"

* * *

The first thing Ginny noticed the next morning that she was significantly colder than usual. Then, as she sat up in bed, she gasped as the sheet slipped off her, revealing that she had neglected to wear nightclothes. Finally, she let out a scream and pulled the sheets up to her neck as a grunt came from next to her.

"Will you stop moving around?" Draco grumbled sleepily.

"What… I slept with you… I'm naked… I was going to sleep in the sitting room…" Ginny rambled as she began to hyperventilate.

Draco suddenly became more aware of his surroundings as a sheet was whipped off him, exposing himself to the chilly morning air. He heard a harshly whispered spell and suddenly Ginny was standing before him in a towering fury wearing a simple robe that had evidently been a bed sheet moments before. Looking down he realized that he too was unclothed and quickly pulled up the light down comforter.

"Draco Malfoy, what potion did you have the nerve to use on me?" Ginny demanded coldly, pulling herself up as much as she could, and placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"What are you talking about? I'm not even sure what's going on…" he uncharacteristically babbled, before looking in the direction one of Ginny's fingers was pointed in imposingly.

Ginny had woken up confused, had become agitated, then finally her temper boiled over as she realized she was displaying symptoms of potion use: she had always been particularly sensitive to newt in any form or quantity. After gaining composure and making herself decent, she had noticed a trail of clothing she recognized wearing the day before, leading from the dining room to the bed. Her knickers, she noted sourly, had a large tear in them. Pity, those had been her favorite knickers and even though she could repair them flawlessly, they would forever be tainted with recollections of this morning.

"How could you do this to me," she hissed menacingly, stalking back towards the bed. "Were you under orders from that father of yours to bed your wife using any means necessary to continue the Malfoy line? Or was this some other evil plan of your own devising?"

"I swear, Ginny, I didn't have anything to do with… this," he said, gesturing wildly towards the bed and trail of clothing.

"I'm sure you didn't," Ginny said contemptuously, whipping her wand out and placing a full body bind on him. "Now I am going to go get breakfast and you can stay here and think about what you've done."

Draco sat silently in the bed, thanking his lucky stars that she had only placed a full body bind on him. He had overheard a conversation between several of her brothers once, who had been complaining that she could throw a mean hex. He also had had training during the war on how to throw off a variety of hexes and he guessed that he had another few minutes before he was free. After another minute, he decided that while he could throw off the hex, he would probably just sit very, _very_ still until Ginny calmed down a bit more and was less free with the wandwork.

He only had to wait about half an hour to see Ginny in a calmer state. Indeed, she came prancing back into the room, shooting him a sultry smile, and pointing her wand at her robe, changed it back into a sheet, which slid onto the floor. He fought against the body bind spell more urgently as she finally began draping herself over him.

"What did you have for breakfast?" he choked out at last, pushing her off of him.

"Why do you want to know what I ate?" she pouted, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She dropped her wand next to his hand and he let out an immense sigh of relief.

"_Stupefy!"_ he cried out, the force of the spelling hitting her hard in the chest and she slumped over him again. He then carefully levitated her body off of him and onto the bed, as he scrambled to the floor.

"Pally!" he shouted and a small elf appeared next to him, scraping it's abnormally long nose against the floor. "Robe Miss Wea… Mrs. Malfoy in one of the nightgowns she brought."

"Yes, sir," the little elf squeaked before beginning to robe Ginny. Draco sat on the bench at the foot of the bed and placed a full body bind on her before awakening her. After standing guard over her for an exhausting three hours, the look in her eyes finally drifted from seductive to outraged and he lifted that spell from her.

"Malfoy, I swear to you I am not interested in this! What the hell have you…" Ginny began shouting.

"_Silencio!"_ Draco shouted, rubbing a hand over his face. Ginny glared at him before walking over and attempting to punch his arm, but Draco caught her hand first.

"Look here, Ginny," he began angrily. "I have done _nothing_ to you. The most I did was protect you from whatever spell or potion you were under and had a house elf dress you. Now listen closely, I'm going to take the spell off you and then you're going to tell me _exactly_ what happened while you were in the dining room."

He lifted the spell and Ginny gave him another deadly glare. "I didn't even get breakfast, you prat! What good is telling you what happened in there?"

"Something clearly happened," he shot back. "You went into the dining room piss mad at me and came out trying to jump me! Are you sure you don't remember _anything?_"

Ginny frowned at his statement. "Well, I went in, called for Tilly and asked for pomegranate juice and croissants. I remember the juice appearing in front of me, but I don't even recall drinking it."

"What's the last thing you remember from last night?" he asked, realization beginning to dawn on him.

"I… I had just checked what the soup was with Lena's charm, why? You think it's something we're eating?" she asked curiously, a frown beginning to mar her forehead.

"Not what we're eating," Draco corrected, "what we're _drinking._ Last night, after you performed that charm, you had a sip of wine. I recall eating, but I don't recall drinking at all, although I've had a bit of a hangover this morning so I clearly drank more than two glasses."

"That makes sense," Ginny agreed reluctantly. "Whatever kind of potion it is, it's got some sort of newt in it. I'm rather sensitive to newt and my scalp has been tingling since I woke up."

"Newt's fairly common so that doesn't really give us any strong clues," Draco sighed. "And whoever did this – mind you, I'm willing to bet my life it's my mother – was smart: just about everything is prepared with water." He paused for a moment. "What am I thinking, I'm a wizard, I can conjure water! It'll be an awfully boring week, though."

"I'm sure we can survive for a week just drinking water," Ginny assured him, patting his hand. "It's quite good for you, you know."

"But it's _water_," he said, very nearly whining. "What if I want tea, juice, or even wine?"

Ginny frowned. "Tea we can do, easily," she said slowly. "It's nothing but tea leaves brewed in hot water, after all. I've never been able to get the hang of charms for foods: that was always Lena's specialty, so unfortunately I'm afraid juices and wines are out of the question."

"I can only charm vinegar into wine," Draco said, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Perhaps we should ask the house-elves for gallons of vinegar?"

"Tilly!" Ginny called out as they sat down. The elf appeared into the room with a loud pop and bowed deeply in front of Ginny.

"Mistress Ginevra called for Tilly?" she squeaked to the floor.

"Yes I did," Ginny said gently. "Now I was wondering, would it be possible for you to bring us some lunch? We'd like a tray of tea sandwiches and a pot of tea with extra tea leaves on the side, thank you."

"Of course, Mistress Ginny!" the elf squeaked delightedly. "Tilly would be glad to bring you and Master Draco lunch!"

Tilly snapped her fingers and disappeared from the room with another pop. A third pop filled the room and a silver platter covered in tea sandwiches and a tea set covered the table.

"Ah, perfect," Ginny exclaimed, lifting the lid of the tea pot. "I can just _Scourgify_ this out… wait, Draco, take a sniff of this tea!"

Draco obligingly leaned forward, sniffing the steam rising from the tea. He instantly was assaulted with the smell of rain, leather, and a floral scent that was vaguely familiar but he was unable to place, but nonetheless present whenever he sniffed...

"It's some form of Amortentia, I'm sure of it," Ginny said excitedly, breaking his train of thought. "I can smell… well, that doesn't really matter," she said, her cheeks tinged pink with excitement and embarrassment. "Look at it, the steam from the tea is rising in spirals and I'm sure you recognized the scent. The only thing missing is the mother-of-pearl sheen, but since that's caused by ground pearls, this must be a variation. The pearls are what lends it its longevity, which explains why it's only lasting a few hours for us."

"Well, it's lovely and all that we've confirmed what caused last night," Ginny's face fell at this, "but really, what good does it do us? We can't exactly buy the ingredients to go out and brew a counter-potion."

"Right, right," she mumbled. "_Scourgify._"

The tea vanished from the pot. Ginny quickly added tea leaves to the pot and filled it with water before applying a heating charm. Before long, steam was rising from the pot again, although it no longer spiraled.

"All set?" Draco asked.

Ginny nodded brusquely. They ate lunch in silence.

* * *

Ginny remained stonily silent for the next few days. Finally, Draco couldn't stand the silence.

"Ginny?" She ignored him. "Ginny!" At this she turned and faced in the opposite direction, staring at the gauzy drapes. "Ginny, please talk to me."

"Why?"

Draco was less than pleased at this response, but it was the first word she had said in days and her voice was rusty with disuse.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" she laughed in disbelief and turned to face him. "_What's wrong_? Being stuck in this blasted suite with your mother trying to force-feed us some form of Amortentia potion? You don't see _anything_ wrong with that picture?"

Draco was now well and truly annoyed. "You don't think it bothers me? My father helped push this law through because it had a pureblooded agenda, but my mother helped push it through because she wanted grandchildren! Now that I've read the specific clauses, I'm sure she had a heavy hand in requiring five children from pureblood couples!"

Ginny stared at him incredulously so he continued. "We adhere to something called the Malfoy Code of Conduct: I should probably give you a copy to read once we return to the manor. Or France," he added as an afterthought. "At any rate, one of the requirements is that to contain the wealth only a male child is permitted, one sole male heir to continue the family line. Quite a number of spells are traditionally cast at the wedding, which is normally a considerably grander affair than ours, by the current head of the house on the couple to ensure that they can only bear a single male heir, among other things. Should the heir die prematurely, the head of house is able to cast more spells such that another heir can be produced."

Ginny laughed hollowly. "Your family is sick, you do realize that?"

"Yes, yes, I do, but it is also quite logical. Don't want to split up the family fortune now, do we?"

"Well, we will at any rate," Ginny sighed. "I suppose your father is going to hate me even more now."

Draco shrugged elegantly. "He's the one that pushed the law through, so either there's some loophole we can get through or he agrees with my mother and wants a herd of grandchildren. I'll have to ask him about it when we get back." He paused, his cheeks taking on a pink tinge. "I don't suppose there's some sort of test you can do to see if… you know…"

"What are you on about?" Ginny asked, her face contorted in confusion.

"Um, well, to see if, you know, you're," he stammered, finally whispering with his eyes squeezed shut, "_expecting?_"

Ten and a half years of etiquette lessons failed Ginny in this moment and her face flushed deep red. "No, no," she finally managed to get out. "Another week and a half and I'll let you know."

Draco's eyes squeezed shut, clearly not happy with the wait, however long. "Alright then," he said, before opening his mouth to speak again, but Ginny cut him off.

"Enough of that now," she said, her face beginning to resume its usual pallor. "I've had quite enough talking today; I'm going to get to work on some new designs."

Much to Draco's surprise, she stalked out of the room to do exactly that. When he angrily followed her into the dining room, she was busily transforming the now familiar room. She pointed her wand at the table, whereupon the tablecloth whipped itself off the table and into the form of a manikin in the corner of the room. Another spell shot at a flower vase in the corner of the room transfigured the hapless vase into a victrola which began to blast a song Draco didn't recognize, but yet found oddly cathartic. Another spell was quickly fired at the table and he was astonished to see the grains in the wood spring to life, showing a crude representation of a classical orchestra. Finally, she began pulling at the drapes, the fabric multiplying in her arms.

"What do _you_ want?" she snarled, her arms full of the gauzy material as she finally realized who was in the room with her.

"I just wanted to talk," he snapped back at her.

"Well," she said, shooting a severing charm at the drapes, neatly separating the fabric in her arms from the fabric still protecting the windows, "I've heard quite enough of your crazy family today."

"Hey now," he said, clearly offended. "My family has not had a single instance of insanity! We're simply highly logical and Slytherin to the core!"

Ginny threw her arms up into the air, dumping the fabric on the table and Draco amusedly watched the grainy musicians flee in horror. "What is it with you wizards and houses?" she seethed. "All my brothers ever talk about was Gryffindor this, Gryffindor that, and how being in Gryffindor automatically made them _so_ brave and _valiant_ and how all Ravenclaws were nothing more than a bunch of bookworms, Hufflepuffs were nothing more than a bunch of goody-two shoes, and all Slytherins were liars!"

"Hey! I resent that!" Draco said hotly. "Gryffindors don't like Slytherins because we lie, only that we can lie so much more successfully."

Ginny looked heavenward and counted to ten. "You see," she said, considerably more calmly, "this is exactly what I'm talking about. Yes, I'm sure every house has a dominant trait, but who's to say there can't be a bookish Gryffindor? My brother Percy is a prime example there: he even told me that the Sorting Hat considered putting him in Ravenclaw. Both twins were candidates for Slytherin, and I wouldn't be surprised if Ron was a candidate for Hufflepuff with the way he follows Harry and Hermione around!"

"Well, the Sorting Hat never considered anything other than Slytherin for me," he said arrogantly. "I'm sure I'm a prime example of all the wonderful traits that that glorious house possesses."

"I'm sure you are," she said rolling her eyes. "But surely there was a brave Malfoy somewhere along the line who asked to be put into Slytherin because he couldn't stomach the thought of how his family would treat him as a Gryffindor? At any rate, please leave. As you can see, I'm rather busy."

Draco stalked angrily out of the room, determined to make _her_ speak to him next.

* * *

As it turned out Ginny didn't speak to him at all until the morning that they were due to leave for their next destination. She took over the sitting room, transfiguring the sofa into a large squishy bed and very often he'd sneak peeks of her in the chilly evenings staring forlornly into the fire while sipping non-Amortentia laced tea. She finally met him in the dining room wearing a somber looking black robe which appeared to be made of the same material as the drapes, accented with a silver brooch.

"Are you all set?" she asked quietly.

He nodded brusquely as a swirling, shimmering blue light appeared above the table, finally materializing into another small silver trinket. He reached out to place a finger on it, but a small soft hand stopped him.

"Please," Ginny said softly. "I've been doing a bit of thinking over the past couple days, can we start over this week? I can't go through the rest of my life like this and I doubt you can either."

Draco's shoulders sagged in relief for a moment before he caught himself. "Of course," he said, his mouth forming a small smile. "Now let's go, shall we?"

Ginny returned his smile, her eyes never leaving his as she reached for the Portkey and they were sucked off into the unknown once again.

* * *

_**Author's Note 2:**_

_Thank you all who stuck with me after not really updating in ages! I'm working on chapter 10 which is proving to be rather lengthy. The music Ginny was playing was Beethoven's 5__th__ symphony. As usual, many thanks to my beta, Lynn._


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The endless whirling of the international Portkey stopped suddenly, causing both Draco and Ginny to stumble slightly as they landed on the floor of a lavish suite. This suite, upon first examination, was furnished with darker, richer colors than the previous suite, which had been light and airy. Ginny reached the large window on the opposite side of the room in a few quick strides while Draco picked up a scroll he spied sitting on a small end table. Breaking the wax seal, he read the contents.

_Hello again, my darlings!_

_I hope you had a good time getting to know one another better in Newport, but now it is time to move onto new adventures! This next leg of your journey will take place in Beijing, China. I have scheduled numerous tours of the local area attractions so that you may become better acquainted with your surroundings._

_Love,_

_Mother_

"I think we're some place in Asia," Ginny informed Draco excitedly, her eyes fixed on the window pane.

"Yes, we're in China," Draco confirmed. "Mother has arranged tours for us, so it doesn't sound like we're trapped in again." He rolled his eyes at this before continuing. "I'm beginning to think it was a poor decision to allow her to arrange this honeymoon for us."

"Yes, me too," Ginny sighed, peeling her eyes away from the window and reaching for the parchment in Draco's hands. "Better one day of agony with a large wedding than four weeks with this blasted honeymoon."

"Don't forget all the wedding planning we would have been forced to sit through," he reminded her, grimacing at the thought.

At that moment a knock on the door brought a porter bearing a meal and their itinerary for the week. As soon as he left Ginny raised the lid of the teapot and took a delicate sniff.

"Just tea," she sighed in relief, replacing the lid and pouring for both of them. She then carefully bit into an eggroll while Draco picked up the scroll of parchment that arrived with the meal.

Breaking the black wax seal he read aloud, "Monday…"

"That's tomorrow!" Ginny said excitedly, her face lighting up with glee, as she delicately placed the eggroll on her plate and demurely folded her hands on her lap.

"Tour of the Great Wall of China, Apparating to key points along the wall…"

"_Why_ must we always Apparate?"

"Tuesday," he continued as if she hadn't interrupted him twice already, "tour of the Forbidden Palace, which happens to be just a few blocks away."

"That should be fascinating!"

"Wednesday, tour of the tomb of Qinshihuangdi…"

"The terracotta army! I've always wanted to see that!"

"Thursday, a tour of Beijing, Friday, a day of rest."

"Well, that all sounds exciting," Ginny said, stretching slightly. "Now I'm going to take a walk down to the lobby, I desperately need to stretch my legs."

* * *

Draco awoke the next morning feeling rather chilly. As he rolled over to grasp his wand on the nightstand, intending to cast a warming charm on the blankets, he quickly realized two things: he had rolled over into a warm body which had quickly snuggled up to him and that the nightstand was on his left instead of on his right, as it should have been. Realizing that he too was wearing yesterday's robes, he allowed a sigh of relief to escape his lips. Changing quickly, he retreated to the sitting room, counting down the minutes until he faced his wife's wrath.

"So, what is it that's on the itinerary for today?" a voice asked, causing the hairs on his neck to prickle up.

Draco looked down at the sheet of parchment. "Today we are taking a tour of the Great Wall of China, which apparently was completed by the Ming Wizard Emperor, Wudi."

"Oh, I can't wait!" Ginny said, coming into view, her eyes alight with excitement. "We studied this in fourth year history class, it's absolutely fascinating!" She rushed off to the bedroom to get properly dressed as Draco quirked an eyebrow after her.

"You do realize the tour starts after lunch?" he called out.

He was met by silence. Several minutes later she re-emerged wearing a somewhat close-fitting royal blue velvet robe highlighted with a thick black belt at her waist, causing the fabric to bunch both above and below it. Worst of all, in Draco's opinion, were the three-quarter length sleeves.

"You aren't planning on going anywhere in that get up, are you?" he asked in horror.

"What's wrong with my robe?" she asked, frowning slightly. She knew that it was very fashion forward, being considerably more close-fitting and showing off more skin than typically seen, but he hadn't objected to her considerably more scandalous wedding robe.

"You're showing… things," he said, gesturing wildly towards her chest. "And your wrists are showing!"

"My wedding robes showed more skin," she said crossly, folding her arms across her offending chest.

Draco tried to conjure up an image of her wedding robes in vain. He knew they hadn't been white, but surely they had been a billowing cream confection?

"Well, you simply can't step outside looking like that," he finally said with a note of finality.

"I can and I shall," Ginny said rather sharply. "Who died and left you the boss of me?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping I didn't have to do this but… Malfoy Code of Conduct, page 364, section 2. 'A Malfoy wife shall at all times bow to the will of her husband when disagreements risk becoming public and/or would tarnish the Malfoy name.'"

"Fine!" Ginny snarled, quickly shooting spells at her sleeves, causing them to fall past her wrists. She raised her fist as if to punch him, but he quickly caught her hand, eyes snapping.

"Malfoy Code of Conduct, page 360, section 4. 'A Malfoy wife may raise neither hand nor wand against her husband, regardless of the circumstances, without feeling the inflicted pain ten-fold.' There was a spell on the contract you signed that binds you to the Malfoy Code of Conduct so I suggest you listen to me."

At this, Ginny glowered at him. "You're lying," she said with great certainty.

He raised a single pale eyebrow. "I assure you, I'm not."

"Yes you are!" she said hotly, balling her fists. "I read every word of that contract and not once was this 'Malfoy Code of Conduct' mentioned and I tripled checked the parchment for unusual spells!"

Draco softened a bit at this. "Well, as I'm sure you've gathered by now, it's not particularly kind to wives so another portion of the Code restricts you from telling anyone outside of the Malfoy family of its existence. Additionally, my great-great-great-great-_great_-grandfather developed a charm that compelled the signee to obey it, but it would appear to be nothing more than a simple ink drying spell."

"I still don't believe you," Ginny growled.

"Fine then!" Draco all but shouted. "Hit me then and tell me how it feels!"

Ginny gladly took advantage of this and punched him in the shoulder as hard as she possibly could. Draco had braced himself for the impact and pain, but had not expected to hear a sickening crunch of bones and watch his wife's eyes well up with tears.

"You weren't lying, that hurt worse than a Bludger," she whispered weakly before slumping forward.

Draco quickly lunged forward, catching his broken wife in his arms. Now he was at a loss as to what to do next. He knew the incantation to repair broken bones was _Episkey_, but he wasn't quite sure how it worked and he didn't feel like making Ginny his first test subject. He finally left the unconscious witch on the bed after performing an analgesic charm on her before moving to the hotel lobby to use the Floo.

Sticking his head into the emerald green flames, he called out "St. Mungo's, London, England!" A peppy looking healer who had clearly just reported in answered.

"I need to speak with Healer Evans immediately!" he snarled and watched with some satisfaction as the happy smile slid off her face and her eyes went wide in alarm.

"Yes, yes, I'll fetch him for you straight away," she answered quickly before running off to find the Malfoy family Healer.

A few _very_ long minutes later, Healer Evans appeared in Draco's vision.

"Draco! Whatever is the matter?"

"It's my wife," he said quickly, his eyes darting around to make sure no one else was listening. "Could you very kindly Floo to," Draco quickly glanced down at the stationary he had grabbed on the way out of the suite, "the Lotus Suites in Beijing, China?"

"Certainly," the old Healer said kindly.

Draco wrenched his head out of the flames and paced the length of the large lobby twice before hearing the typical _whooshing_ noise associated with someone popping out of the Floo, followed by the thwacking noise of someone shaking soot out of their robes.

"Ah, Draco, there you are!" the elderly man in lime green robes said jovially. "Now, where is your wife?"

"She's upstairs in our suite," he said quickly. "Follow me."

Draco led the Healer quickly up the four flights of stairs, ignoring the creaking bones and huffing coming from behind him. Finally they reached his suite where Draco wasted no time in ushering him towards Ginny.

"I think she broke her shoulder," Draco said quickly, in hushed tones. "She didn't believe me when I told her about the old curse on Malfoy wives."

The Healer chuckled. "No, I remember your mother didn't either, but your wife here can certainly pack a mean punch." He frowned. "Actually, considering that she's already under one of your analgesic charms, I'm going to have to check your shoulder first."

Draco frowned but quickly slipped his robe off his shoulder, revealing an angry red mark. "Ah, yes, I expected as much, that would have left quite a bruise," the Healer chuckled. He proceeded to shoot a series of spells at the injury, causing the pain to be replaced by an icy sensation. "Now for Mrs. Malfoy."

Draco paled. Just how badly was she hurt? After a few minutes of poking about and muttered spells, Healer Evans finally turned to him, his face grim.

"I'm afraid it's not good," he said wearily. "The bone was completely shattered: I had to remove it entirely and now we'll have to re-grow it. She should be able to get up by tomorrow morning, but in the meantime she should remain in bed."

Draco cleared his throat nervously. "There's a chance she might be pregnant," he said carefully. "At least, that's what we're hoping."

The elderly Healer eyed him critically. "Really? And just how far along do you suspect her to be?"

"A week at most," Draco admitted sheepishly. "She said that we'd find out in another week or so."

"Ah, that is the earliest we could find out," he said, smiling up at the young man kindly. "No worries though, this early on there's not even a chance that your babe would be even an inch taller than expected! Now, typically I'd prescribe a sleeping potion to be taken with Skele-Gro, but I know your analgesic charms will be more than sufficient. However, I am going to wake her to see how she's faring."

He muttered another spell at Ginny, who's eyes fluttered open with a groan. "Dammit, Draco, why must your family be so weird?"

Healer Evans smiled at her indulgently before asking kindly, "Now, Mrs. Malfoy, how are you feeling?"

"Groggy," she groaned. "And don't call me that. Can I get a strong cup of tea, please?"

"ELF!" Draco hollered out as Ginny threw a tired glare at him.

"It's not like Mother told us who to call this time," he told her irritably as numerous pops filled the room.

"How may Blinky help Master?" one house-elf squeaked, groveling at Draco's feet.

"My wife requires a strong cup of tea." As the elf began to nod its head, he tacked on, "best bring the whole pot."

"As Master wishes," the elf answered and left the room. The remaining house-elves similarly scraped their noses across the immaculately clean floor before popping out of the room.

At this point Ginny tried to sit up and failed miserably. "I – I can't move my arm," she said worriedly, casting glances between Draco and the Healer.

"Relax, my dear," the Healer told her kindly. "I am Healer Evans and I'm going to fix you up, right as rain."

"What happened?"

"You punched my shoulder so hard that you shattered your own in the process," Draco drawled. "Thank you for that, by the way."

"Now, now, don't listen to him, Mrs. Malfoy. He was quite distraught earlier when he first realized you were injured."

"Argh, don't call me that," Ginny said again, wincing.

"Don't call you what?" the elderly Healer asked, frowning.

"Mrs. Malfoy. Call me Ginny or Miss Weasley, if you must."

"No," Draco said sharply before turning to the Healer. "You may call her Ginevra." He turned back to Ginny. "Clearly your etiquette lessons at school didn't expect you to marry because you ought to know that in our society you should never ask someone you are not close to to refer to you by a nickname or your maiden name."

"It was always expected that when we married we would not be forced to give up our names," Ginny informed him, rolling her eyes. "Besides, he's already seen my entire arm, which according to you is quite scandalous, so I assumed he knew me well enough to go with a nickname."

Draco opened his mouth to speak again but Healer Evans beat him to it. "Well, Ginevra," he said, choosing to ignore the fight the young couple was having, "thanks to the curse on the Malfoy wives, you feel pain ten-fold of that which you inflict on your husband. Unfortunately, in addition to pain, you are also cursed to receive injury. You must have been quite angry at Draco here because you managed to shatter your shoulder. I've removed the many bits of bone and in a moment I'll ask you to drink a vial of Skele-Gro potion. Are you in any pain?"

Ginny frowned. "No, actually," she said slowly. "I suppose that that's because the bone is missing now?"

He laughed. "Partially. Your husband also cast one of his infamous analgesic charms on you. After his dealings with the Dark Lord, his analgesic charms are considerably more powerful than any I could cast." He rummaged about in a bag he had brought with him, finally extracting a large vial full of a sludgy green potion. "Here, you _must_ drink all of this."

She tentatively reached out for the vial with her good arm. The vial was comically oversized: about half the length of her forearm and half as wide as her wrist. The top of the vial glimmered, obviously covered with a simple charm that kept the contents from spilling accidentally. She sniffed the contents, recoiling back in horror.

"I have to drink _all _of it?" she asked in dismay.

"Yes, it's best done all in one go," Healer Evans told her kindly. "Would you like an anti-nausea potion first?"

"Yes, please," Ginny answered quickly as a vial the size of her pinky finger and filled with a thin, clear, yellow potion, which Draco thought was rather reminiscent of urine, was produced. The elderly healer held the Skele-Gro vial while she quickly downed the potion in one gulp. "Alright now for the big one," she mumbled, reaching for the larger vial.

She downed the entire potion in just a few gulps. After finishing it, she tossed the vial aside, where it shattered on the floor, and lunged for her tea, which Healer Evans had charmed into a very rich, frothy cocoa moments before.

"Alright, my work here is done," the Healer pronounced as she drained the teacup. "Now, Ginevra, I must ask you to remain in bed for the rest of today. I'd also recommend against hitting your husband in the future." He gathered up his bag, straightened his bright lime green robes and left the room, the door gently clicking shut behind him.

"So, do you believe me now?" Draco asked irritably.

"Yes, yes, alright, I'm bound by this damned 'Malfoy Code of Conduct'," she said irritably, raking her good hand through her hair. "Now is it possible for me to get a copy of it so I know what else I can and cannot do?"

After several Floo calls home, the first to his father, who cackled madly upon hearing of his daughter-in-law's injury, the second to his considerably more sympathetic mother, Draco finally managed to obtain the thick, dusty tome that was the official, unabridged Malfoy Code of Conduct. He brought it back up to his suite, a smirk firmly planted on his face, and handed it to his wife.

"That thing is massive!" she said in disbelief, looking at the ancient book and not taking it from his hand. "There's no way I'll manage to finish that today."

"It took me two years to memorize it," Draco informed her smugly, his wrist starting to grow sore from holding it up.

After several minutes of arguing and ranting from Ginny on how stupid and evil her new in-laws were, she finally convinced Draco to levitate the book in front of her since she couldn't very well hold it and her spell work with her non-wand arm was laughable on a good day, which today certainly wasn't. After a few more minutes of arguing and Draco deliberately goading her by levitating the book either too close or too far away, she was finally settled in with her very boring material.

As she quickly found out, it was not only boring but difficult to read. The Malfoys were originally from France and insisted on writing out the entire thing in French. This didn't bother her as she had been fluent in French for nearly a decade. They also insisted in writing out the whole thing in very flowery legal jargon. This too was doable, if a touch annoying, but she had been required to take several courses on magical contracts to make sure she understood what was expected of her when she signed Quidditch contracts and later for when she needed to contend with other designers. What was by far the most annoying and headache-inducing was that some Malfoy ancestor had decided that printing presses and final drafts were evil, Muggle inventions. The entire tome was written in a very ornate script with many cross outs and revisions.

Ginny quickly discovered just how true everything was that Draco had told her. If she had tried to step outside their suite that morning, dressed in a manner that he had verbally disproved of, she would suddenly find that she lacked the strength to open the door. She would only have been able to leave if she had changed to more suitable attire or if Draco had opened the door for her, signifying that he approved of her choice and she was free to go.

There were other stipulations that she had been surprised weren't in the pre-nuptial agreement she had signed, but she discovered they were all stated quite clearly in here. Divorce, even without the ever-looming law that had forced them to marry, was next to impossible. There was only one reason that allowed for divorce and that was if the Malfoy bride had not produced an heir within five years of marriage. In addition to the fidelity charm that had been cast on her at the Ministry of Magic, there was another whole chapter explaining in great detail the many horrible things that would happen to her if she had the audacity to think of inappropriate liaisons with an individual other than her husband. She noted very sourly that there was no such mention of anything happening to her husband if he took such actions, never mind thoughts, and for the first time became immensely glad that the Ministry had placed a fidelity charm on both of them. She made a mental note to check what charms the Ministry had placed on them the following day when she regained use of her wand arm, mentally cursing herself for not doing that sooner.

* * *

The next dawned bright and cheerful while the newlyweds slumbered on. Draco finally woke around 9:00, praising the recent invention of jet-lag potions that allowed his body to adjust to a drastically different time zone in no time at all. Ginny still lay quietly beside him and he dreaded having to wake her up in a few short hours. He wasn't sure what time she had gone to sleep, but she had been so engrossed in the Malfoy Code of Conduct that she hadn't objected to him sleeping next to her that evening and had rudely poked him awake when her candle guttered out at three in the morning. After a bit of grumbling he had obligingly replaced her candle and rearranged her pillows before falling fast asleep.

He dressed for the day before heading out to the sitting room to eat breakfast. On the steaming breakfast tray, he noticed two things with great satisfaction. Firstly, the kitchens seemed to have accommodated his request for traditional English fare in the mornings, as his sensitive stomach was not up to the challenge of strange dishes after a long nights sleep. Secondly, there was a scroll bearing what appeared to be his mother's neat script. Sitting at the table, he poured himself a cup of tea and read the missive.

_Darling Draco,_

_Because Ginevra fell ill yesterday, I have taken the liberty of rearranging your itinerary for this week. Everything has merely been pushed back one day, so you shan't miss any outings that you were looking forward to._

_How is Ginevra faring today? I do hope that she made it a good bit of the way through that book and I will have your head served on my tea tray if I discover that you were using your powers over her in an ungentlemanly fashion. I'm not too old to produce another (better mannered!) heir, I'll have you know!_

_Love,_

_Mother_

Draco sighed before reaching over to the platter of eggs. He had just picked up the serving spoon and was about ready to dish some eggs onto his plate when his hand froze in surprise.

There was a continual beeping coming from the next room that was gradually increasing in volume. He heard some muffled groaning and movement before the noise finally stopped. A few moments later a very rumpled Ginny appeared in the room and made a beeline for the teapot.

"I wasn't expecting you to be up for another few hours," he said calmly, finally spooning the eggs onto his plate.

"I finally regained the ability to move my arm about around six-o'clock," Ginny admitted, placing her teacup on a saucer while smothering a yawn. "Since we missed the activities yesterday, I wanted to make sure I was up in time for them today and I set my alarm."

"Well, Mother has very kindly pushed all our outings back, so we shall be going to the Great Wall of China this afternoon," he informed her, pushing the parchment over to her teacup.

She quickly read the short note, adopting a smirk very similar to her husband's at the end. "Oh, she would, would she?" she mused before thinking for a moment and frowning. "That reminds me…"

She quickly shot a spell at herself, causing a number of smoky images to appear in front of her. She used her wand to flick through them, nodding at each until she came towards one which caused her to frown. "Figures," she sighed before clearing away the images and shooting the same spell at Draco.

"What the-" he started, but Ginny shot a _Silencio_ in his direction causing his outburst to cease, although it did nothing for the glare that now graced his features.

She similarly flicked her way through a considerably smaller set of images before an angry frown appeared on her face. "I knew it," she said through clenched teeth, flicking the images away again. "Those _bastards!_"

Draco, still glaring at her, pointed clearly at his throat. Ginny shot another spell at him, allowing him to speak.

"What was that spell and why are you cursing?" he demanded.

"That spell was to check what spells have recently been cast upon your person," Ginny clarified, still looking murderous. "I have confirmed that the Ministry did indeed cast fertility and fidelity charms on _me_ but they only cast a fertility charm on _you_. The patriarchal, self-serving – "

"Fine, fine, I get the picture," Draco said impatiently, waving his hand in front of Ginny's face, causing her eyes to snap up angrily towards his. "I can promise you that I won't stray, will that make things better?"

"Well, I'd expect as much," she muttered darkly. She suddenly looked up, an evil smirk gracing her features. "Well, _I_ can't cast a fidelity spell on you, but your mother is more than capable of doing so. Yes, yes, I think I'll write her…"

Draco looked up from his eggs, positively horrified. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I very much so will," she said, pulling a sheaf of parchment out from under the breakfast tray.

* * *

After returning from the tour of the Great Wall, which Draco found delightful and Ginny nerve-wracking, the concierge came running towards them, informing them that they had a guest waiting for them in the lobby. They had just caught sight of platinum blonde hair and lavender robes when Draco found himself being hit by an orange bolt of light.

"Mother!" he yelped. "What was that for!"

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_My very first (sorta) cliffhanger! I'm sure you've all figured out what happened, but eh. I tried._

_I would like to point out that I came up with the idea of the Malfoy Code of Conduct quite some time ago. It was purely of my own sick imagination and actually wasn't influenced by any other stories. Blinky, however, I cannot claim. I have no idea who first came up with the idea of naming house elves "Blinky" but I'm pretty sure I've seen the name all over the place._

_Many thanks to all the reviews, story alerts, and story favs. I'm kinda flabbergasted to still be getting favs at all, to be honest._


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice," Ginny said, grinning broadly as the blonde witch approached them.

"Not a problem, not a problem, especially considering the circumstances," her mother-in-law beamed at her. "The two of us will have to put our heads together more often to wiggle around that ridiculous set of rules."

"Just what was that spell?" Draco demanded.

"Simply the fidelity spell the Ministry neglected to place on you during your wedding ceremony," Narcissa replied airily. "I certainly wouldn't want to discover my only son fathered grandchildren I could never meet. Speaking of which, I hear from Mabby that I might be expecting grandchildren soon?"

Ginny grew dangerously pale and swayed on the spot at these words while Draco pinched the bridge of his nose with a force typically associated with severe nosebleeds. Ginny was the first to regain her composure, although her face was still a rather sickening shade of white. "We'll find out soon enough," she said as strongly as she could.

Draco looked up wearily, though his eyes betrayed just how angry he was. "We do need to talk about that, Mother, so let's head up to the suite." He offered Narcissa his arm, before looking at Ginny, whom he quickly offered a steadying arm around her waist instead.

Once they had made their way up to the suite, they quickly sat down. "What was the meaning of that?" Draco hissed. "You had no right, no right whatsoever, to put us in such a compromising situation! Did you even know what allergies Ginny has? She actually has an allergy to one of the ingredients you put in that potion!"

"Oh dear, are you quite alright?" Narcissa asked Ginny.

"Does she look alright to you?"

"Well, she appeared fine when you arrived – "

"It's more of a sensitivity than an allergy, Draco," Ginny finally spoke up, her voice dull.

"That's not the point!" he snapped.

"He's right, darling, I didn't think, I could have seriously hurt you – "

"You did seriously hurt us! With that fertility charm on us added to the legendary Prewett fertility, there's a tremendous chance that Ginny's pregnant right now!" Ginny closed her eyes and resisted the overwhelming urge to bury her face in her hands at that statement. "We had no intentions of having a baby this soon!"

"I'll do the test," Ginny said suddenly.

"What?" Draco snapped at her, clearly not happy about the interruption.

"I'll do the test," she repeated, a little more strongly. "Right now."

"I thought that you couldn't do it so soon," he asked, confused.

"It frequently creates false negatives this early," she admitted. "But from what you've been saying, what chance is there that I'm _not_ pregnant?" Not waiting for a response, she pulled out her wand, made a complicated swish, then tapped her abdomen. Golden smoke erupted from the tip.

Narcissa quickly crossed the room, kneeling next to Ginny, whose mouth was set in a thin, quivering line. "Congratulations, darling. I would say that I am sorry, but I really can't be seeing this." Narcissa gave her a quick hug, pecked Draco on the cheek and quietly left the room.

"I'm going to bed," Ginny announced faintly, rising from her chair, trembling like a leaf in a windstorm.

The door to the bedroom closed with a soft click and shortly thereafter, Draco heard sobbing. Still dazed, he walked over to the door, opening it quietly.

Ginny was curled up on her side on top of the heavy covers of the large bed. Draco sat down next to her hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder. She jerked in surprise, clearly not having heard him come in, then rolled over to face him.

"Please," she choked out, her eyes shining. "Please hold me," she finally whispered after a few more moments.

Draco numbly kicked off his shoes before climbing onto the bed. After staring at his wife for a minute or so, he finally snaked one arm under her neck and placed the other over her midsection. Despite the early hour, they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Draco woke to find the room considerably darker and cooler. An elf had clearly been there earlier, thoughtfully lighting two gas sconces above the mantle. Squinting, he was able to just make out the time on the timepiece above the mantle: it was just past twelve. He winced as he pulled his arm out from under Ginny's neck; it had fallen asleep sometime earlier and was now full of pins and needles. Rubbing some life back into it, he blearily looked around the room, finally noting that his wand, while missing from the nightstand, was poking into his side. Horrified, he pulled it out of his robes, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it intact.

As he made to get out of bed, his feet hit the cold floor and he let out a yelp. Quickly glancing at the other side of the bed, he desperately hoped that he had not woken Ginny, but it appeared that luck was not on his side as she began to stir and cracked one eye open.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Around twelve," he responded. "Go back to sleep."

"Are you mad?" she asked him, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "I fell asleep in my robes!"

She climbed out of bed, not even wincing when her feet hit the cold floor and rummaged around in a wardrobe till she found a long, flowing, white robe. Draco thought it looked rather reminiscent of the curtains in Newport, but quickly dismissed that idea as being ridiculous. Turning around, she gave him a rather pointed look, so he walked into the sitting room and ordered a pot of tea, hoping the hot beverage would lull him back to sleep.

The elf who brought the tea service was clearly more clever than Draco gave him credit because the tea delivered was missing its familiar bite. As he sipped the decaffeinated tea, Ginny walked into the room, wearing a billowing white nightgown.

"Decaf?" she asked, frowning.

"I think so," Draco replied. "It certainly tastes like it."

Lifting the teapot, she poured the tea into a paper thin china cup. Taking a delicate sip, she sighed in contentment.

"Thank you," she said softly, swirling the tea in her cup, watching the few scarce tea leaves float about.

"What for?" he asked, nonplussed.

"For holding me earlier," she replied, staring at him oddly. "I'm sorry I broke down like that."

"We're in this together, whether we like it or not," he said firmly. "Besides," he said, his eyes twinkling, "there's a separate volume of the Malfoy Code of Conduct called 'The Proper Care and Keeping of Wives'. I'm afraid you can't read it though."

"Urgh," she grimaced. "Do they happen to have a proper outline on how exactly every moment of your life should play out?"

"Oh yes," he said, his eyes twinkling in mirth. "They consulted a Seer to See the futures of all their unborn offspring."

Ginny closed her eyes, a pained expression coming over her face. "I still can't believe we're going to be parents," she whispered.

"I hate my mother right now," Draco admitted. "She had absolutely no right to do that to us. I had planned on us starting to try to have children once we had been married for two years."

"Nice of you to include me in that planning," Ginny said somewhat nastily.

"When were you planning on it then?" he asked, baffled.

"It wasn't in my plans! I wanted to have a nice, long Quidditch career then start a robe business! I figured that if I met some nice wizard and things worked out then I might have children, but that was in a far off, distant future!"

Ginny burst into tears again, clearly distressed. Draco got up again and put his arms around her.

"I just want to go to sleep and pretend this was all a bad dream," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Come on then, let's go to bed," he suggested. When she didn't move, just curled up in her chair crying inconsolably, he picked her up, staggering slightly from her weight and carried her to the bedroom, placing her on the bed. Making sure that she was facing away from him, he got up and changed into his own nightclothes. He crawled into bed next to her and the two drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The next morning Draco was awakened by a beep that was gradually increasing in volume and a light that was growing brighter by the second. He finally spied Ginny's wand on the nightstand emitting the light and groaned.

"Ginny, your wand."

She didn't do anything, simply grabbed onto him and snuggled closer.

"Ginny," he tried again, louder so that he could be heard over the beeping. "Your wand is beeping." She didn't move. Finally, as the beeping grew to such a volume that he was sure his ears would be ringing for days to come, Ginny groaned and reached over, flicking her wand viciously. The beeping stopped, although the light remained.

"'Morning," she said groggily. "What's on the schedule for today?"

Draco frowned, not remembering either. He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and lazily pointed it towards the sitting room. A flattened piece of parchment came zooming through the crack under the door and into his hands.

"Ah, let's see… everything's been pushed off a day, so since today's Wednesday we shall be going to the Forbidden Palace. Do you still want to go?"

"Of course I do, don't be silly," she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Yawning and stretching, she gracefully got out of bed and began to rummage around in the wardrobe. She retreated to the bathroom, which Draco took as an invitation to get dressed in the bedroom. He carefully selected grey robes that matched his eyes before heading off to the dining room to see what the elves had brought them for breakfast.

Ginny grumbled as she washed up in the large, sparkling bathroom. She really did not care for how old fashioned her new in-laws were and how she was now forced to select her most traditional robes. At least the robes she selected for today were somewhat interesting: they consisted of a cream under-robe that was fastened with a very light blue sash nearly a foot tall, but was not tight enough to reveal any sort of feminine shape. A dark green outer robe with beautiful brocade along the edges completed the ensemble. It had fastenings to close it completely in colder weather, but Ginny left it open to allow the blue and cream to show through.

She walked into the dining room to discover Draco already seated and eating an omelet. A particularly small house-elf was waiting at the table and scraped its nose across the floor when she walked into the room.

"What will the mistress have in her omelet?" it squeaked in a very high pitched voice. Although Ginny was not particularly familiar with house-elves, she guessed that this could only be a juvenile house-elf.

"Peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms, please," she responded, ignoring the snort from Draco. He clearly still found it amusing that she was polite to house-elves. The elf deftly created her omelet and handed it to her, before bowing once more and disappearing from the room with a nearly inaudible pop.

"What time are we leaving for the Forbidden Palace?" Ginny asked.

"Shortly after lunch," Draco replied. "I was thinking, I'm sure there are some lovely fabric shops around here, would you like to visit them before we leave?"

"I'd love to," Ginny said in surprise.

"Good," he said smugly, leaving Ginny mystified.

* * *

After they had finished breakfast, the two headed to the crowded street outside their hotel. After fighting through the crowds for about twenty minutes, they finally found the fabric shop the concierge had directed them towards. Ginny smiled in delight as she took in the sight around her.

"Oh, this is wonderful," she said, resisting the urge to hug Draco, knowing full well that he would not approve of such affections in public. She quickly became enamored with the world-renowned silks in the front of the store and the shop-owner, knowing a potential customer, was quick to come to her aid.

In the end, she selected so many fabrics that Draco had no doubt she could fill a small trunk with them all. There were heavy silks in nearly every color imaginable: bright reds, dark blues, emerald greens, light greys, and inky blacks. Then there were the lightest possible silks in the sweetest of pastels: lavenders, peaches, pinks, mint greens, creams, and a blue so pale it was nearly white. He could only imagine the plans Ginny had for all of them and supposed that by the time she was finished using them all both his and her entire families would have entirely new wardrobes.

After arranging them all to be shipped to their hotel, they headed off for their tour of the Forbidden Palace. Ginny stopped at the breathtaking sight of the front of the palace.

"Oh my goodness," she breathed. "Just look at the size of that place!"

Draco had to agree. "Another translation calls it the Forbidden City," he remarked. "I think that is the more accurate description."

They fought through the throngs of people, both Muggle and Magical, and finally reached the intimidating front steps. "Isn't there a separate entrance we could use so we don't have to be surrounded by such filth?" Draco groused. "I'm sure there'd be less people."

Ginny frowned, wanting to reprimand him for his prejudices, but thanks to the ever lovely Code, she found she literally did not have the strength to open her jaw to voice her thoughts in such a public place. "Shh, don't say such things in a mixed crowd," Ginny finally managed to get out diplomatically.

Eventually they made it up the steps and into the main museum. Draco was in awe of the enormous throne on display. He read the description in horror. "Someone actually tried to throw this away?"

"Evidently," Ginny said, squinting at the text. "You just like it because of the dragons, don't you?" she teased.

They moved on, eventually making their way to a cauldron Ginny especially wanted to see. "Muggles have no idea of its significance," she quietly confided in Draco. "Not only is it a bronze cauldron, which as I'm sure you know means it's especially powerful in brewing medicinal potions, the inscriptions on it heighten the magical properties of whatever is brewed in it. Supposedly the Chinese Healers brew advanced potions such as Wolfsbane in it in the dead of night to increase their potency. Because of it, the werewolves here barely transform at all during full moons."

Finally, five hours later, the museum was closing and they were forced to leave. "I didn't expect we'd stay that long," Draco remarked.

"Well, it certainly is a fascinating treasure trove," Ginny said. "I still cannot believe that the Wizarding government has so little power here that they cannot remove their own treasures. There's at least enough in there to start up their own museum."

They rounded the corner to their hotel. "Hopefully tomorrow is less eventful than the past few days have been," Draco said as they climbed the stairs to their room.

"Knowing your mother, I very much doubt that," Ginny laughed.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Phew, I can't believe I got this chapter done so quickly, although it's certainly far from my favorite. Hopefully I can keep this up!_

_In other news, I have one more location picked out for the honeymoon, meaning I need one more. I'm all ears to any suggestions you might have._

_In terms of Ginny finding out she was pregnant so quickly, I'm going with her finding out at the absolutely earliest possible time and that magic helps them find out more quickly. I'm really no expert at all on pregnancy or pregnancy tests.  
_

_The descriptions of the throne and the cauldron can be found at the following links (take out all the spaces!):_

_http : / / www .dpm .org .cn / shtml / 500/ / 109318 .html_

_http : / / www .dpm .org .cn / shtml/ 50/ / 109323 .html_

_Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!_


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Ginny grimaced at the seemingly never ending whirling of the third International Portkey she had taken that month. She really was growing quite tired of them, although Draco assured her that the journeys they had been taking would be much worse without the jet lag potion they had been taking daily for the past two weeks. The first week in Newport had been tedious, the second week in China had been lovely, even if life changing events had occurred there, and she wondered where her mother-in-law had sent them now.

After what seemed an eternity, the whirling stopped and as she tried to settle her stomach, she noticed bright sun, endless stretches of sand, and –

"Bill!" she cried out in delight, rushing over to give her eldest brother a warm hug. "And Fleur! How's little Victoire doing?"

"She's doing well," Bill chuckled. "Mind introducing us to this dashing young fellow next to you?"

"Oh yes," Ginny said, blushing slightly. "Bill, Fleur, this is my husband, Draco. Draco, this is my brother Bill and my sister-in-law, Fleur."

"Charmed," Draco drawled, lifting Fleur's hand to his lips. She giggled lightly and Bill looked annoyed.

"I'm so glad that we got to see you!" Ginny exclaimed, breaking the brief tension. "I never dreamed Mrs. Malfoy would send us here, I imagine Mum must've gotten involved in the planning."

Bill chuckled. "From what Mum's told us, this was entirely Mrs. Malfoy's idea. It was all quite sudden too, something about making it up to you."

"Oh, that," Ginny scowled. "She'll be making up for _that_ for years to come."

"I don't think I want to know," Fleur laughed. "But anyways, come along, it's nearly dinnertime here. I've even got jet lag potion for the two of you."

Bill and Fleur walked a few steps before Fleur opened a door, seemingly from thin air. Ginny and Draco could only gape at them as a small stone structure shimmered into view.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" Bill asked. "It's a charm we've been working on at Gringotts, well Fleur has, at any rate."

Fleur smiled graciously. "Bill's just being modest," she explained as they stepped into the house. "He discovered an ancient curse that produced mirages to ensnare thirsty desert wanderers. I was merely able to reverse it so that large objects could be hidden more effectively. Unfortunately, it seems to be atmosphere dependant, we haven't gotten it to work properly on buildings that aren't in deserts."

"And I thought Bill was the one being modest here," Draco whispered to Ginny, who thwacked him lightly on his back.

Ginny received her third surprise of the day when they stepped into the kitchen, which appeared to be nearly as large as the outside structure, but several more doors appeared to belie this. Sitting at the table, in a high chair, was a toddler with pale red wispy hair. She apparently was in the middle of her own dinner and was covered in some sort of mashed green vegetable. "Auntie Ginny! Auntie Ginny!" the little girl cried, throwing her hands up in the air in a demand to be held.

Ginny crossed over to the toddler in a few short steps, scooping her up in her arms and swinging her around as Draco let out a noise of disgust. "Ginny, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Bill warned.

"Oh, please, you used to do this to me all the time when I was little," Ginny laughed.

"Yes, and I eventually learned that it made you sick," he replied, frowning. "I'll tell you the same that Mum told me: if she gets sick, you're the one taking care of her."

"You're no fun," Ginny pouted, although she stopped swinging Victoire around and rested her on her hip instead. The little girl snuggled up to her aunt, getting the green substance all over her robes.

"Oh, Ginny," Fleur sighed as she placed a dish on the table. "She's made a mess all over you. _Scourgify!_"

Ginny's robes instantly became clean once more, but Victoire's face was still covered in the lumpy green vegetable. Conjuring a handkerchief and a little water to wet it, Ginny carefully scrubbed her little face and hands clean. The little girl did not seem to care for this at all, making faces at her aunt when her ablutions were complete.

Fleur carried the final dish to the table and invited them all to sit down. The table was made of a light, knotted wood and though unfinished, was free of splinters. The chairs had clearly been charmed: while they actually looked splintery, they were quite comfortable once you were seated in them.

Dinner itself was a strange affair as well. For the most part, Ginny and Draco had stuck with relatively standard English cuisine, which this most certainly was not. Dinner consisted of stuffed grape leaves, lamb kebabs, and pita bread, with some sort of almond shortbread for dessert. Finally, when Victoire began rubbing her eyes nearly constantly, Ginny and Fleur rose to put her to bed.

Victoire was asleep by the time they reached her small, pink room. Fleur carefully dressed her in a frilly pink nightgown and placed her on a small bed that grew nearly imperceptibly as soon as she touched the mattress.

"Oh, now that's neat," Ginny said quietly.

"Oh yes," Fleur sighed. "She's going through a growth spurt. I don't suppose you'd mind coming along to shop for new clothes for her tomorrow?"

"I'd love to!" she whispered. "I suppose I should start picking some stuff up too," she trailed off sadly.

"What do you mean?" Fleur asked sharply.

Ginny performed the complicated charm again, golden smoke erupting from her wand once more when she tapped her abdomen.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry," she promptly said, in French.

"Me too," Ginny sighed, likewise in French, before looking up in surprise. "Why'd you switch?"

"Because Bill _still_ cannot understand us when we speak quickly and I don't want him finding out about this just yet. You can't be very far along though, can you?"

"Two weeks to the day."

"Then how will you know what kind of clothes to get?"

Ginny laughed. "I'm the first girl in the Weasley family in how many generations? And there haven't been any female Malfoy's in _centuries_."

"Fair point."

"So why don't we want Bill to know just yet?"

"You really think he won't slay that husband of yours the moment he finds out you're with child?"

* * *

"It's not a real marriage, Fleur, I'm not going to force my baby sister to sleep with some monster!"

Ginny sighed. Bill and Fleur had been arguing over their sleeping arrangements for the past hour or so and it appeared that Bill had finally stopped tip-toeing around the real reason he wanted them sleeping in separate rooms. She really needed to put a stop to it, not only had Draco's back stiffened considerably after Bill's last comment, she had had to scoop up a sleepy Victoire who had woken up to the loud, angry voices of her parents.

"Bill, stop it," she finally cut in wearily. "You've finally woken your daughter."

Bill looked horrified at this and Fleur shot him a nasty look, as if her waking had been solely his doing.

"Now listen closely, both of you," she continued, hoisting Victoire further up her hip. "Draco is hardly my first choice for a husband, but he's _not_ a bad person. He's certainly not some "monster", as you claim him to be, Bill." Draco visibly relaxed at this statement and she made note that she'd have to congratulate him for containing his temper throughout the evening. "Besides, much as you both may like it, your sofa is really not suitable as a bed, so please show us the guest room so we _all_ can get some sleep."

Bill stayed where he was, bright red, before sighing and calling out, "Come here, Victoire. Let's get you back into bed."

Victoire sniffled loudly and buried her face in Ginny's robes. "Auntie Ginny," she proclaimed in a tired, muffled voice.

"It's alright, you can come with me," Ginny told her softly, glaring at her brother who wearily dropped his hands to his side. She turned back to face Draco and Fleur and they walked to the guestroom.

The guestroom was probably the smallest room in the house, barely big enough for the double bed and dresser. A small window showed a breathtaking view of stars and sand. Suddenly, the gas lamps flared to life and revealed that the room was decorated in soft yellows, blues, and greens.

"Here, let me take Victoire," Fleur said softly, holding out her arms. Victoire shook her head vigorously and clung to Ginny with a death grip.

"She can stay with us tonight, if you don't mind," Ginny said, rubbing her back gently.

"Just for tonight," Fleur warned both of them. "Well, now that that's all set, I've brought your trunks in here, so you should be all set for the night. Sweet dreams." She kissed Victoire on the head, whispering _I love you_ and walked out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

"I strongly dislike your brother," Draco informed her, a scowl fixed on his face.

Ginny sighed for the umpteenth time that night, sitting down on the bed. "Bill's just trying to watch out for me," she said softly. "He understands that I didn't want this marriage, still don't want it, for that matter, and he's taking it all out on you. I'll have a word with him in the morning."

"Good," he proclaimed. "Now where exactly is she going to sleep?"

"I assumed with us," Ginny said in surprise.

"With us? There's barely enough room for the two of us on that bed!"

"Keep your voice down, I just got her back to sleep," Ginny scolded him quietly. "I suppose I could charm the dresser…"

"Why not simply transfigure it?"

Ginny blushed. "Transfiguration's my worst subject, I'm afraid. We'd be lucky if it stayed transfigured for more than five minutes."

"You were transfiguring things in Newport," he said in confusion.

"I'd recast it every few minutes," she admitted sheepishly. "I'm not about to stay up all night transfiguring a bed every few minutes while my niece is trying to sleep."

"I'll show you how it's done then, shall I?" smirked Draco. He raised his wand, gave a short little twiddle and the dresser was now a small bed made of dark wood. Ginny made to move the throw blanket from the foot of the bed, but Draco grabbed her wrist and conjured a heavy green blanket and a pillow. Ginny carefully picked up the sleeping toddler and placed her on the bed, gently tucking her in for the remainder of the evening.

After they had changed for the evening, they climbed into the bed. It was quite a change from the large king-sized beds they had previously been sleeping in.

"Ow! You kicked me!" Draco whispered harshly.

"I did not! _You_ kicked _me_!"

"It's that blasted code, remember? If you kick me it's like kicking yourself!"

"I'm still going to have a bruise in the morning!"

"So am I!"

Both then rolled over to the very edges of the bed and began tugging at the covers.

"Let go, you cover hog!"

"I'm trying to sleep over here, pipe down!"

"I will as soon as you give me the covers!"

Ginny sat up in a huff. "Fine! Have the blasted covers!" She whipped the throw off the top of the bed and wrapped herself in it.

"Your niece is in here! Watch your language!"

"She's sound asleep!"

"She won't be for long if you keep raising this racket!"

"_Me_? _I_ am the one solely responsible for raising this racket?"

"Yes! You kicked me and stole all the covers!"

"Fine! Just go to sleep!"

"I think I will!"

Finally, both curled up under their own separate covers and fell sound asleep.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and quickly grew warm. After a breakfast of fruit and more pita bread, Ginny took Bill aside.

"Let me guess, you're going to talk to me about last night," he said wearily. "I'll have you know Fleur's already given me an earful."

"As well she should have," Ginny said crossly. "Look, whether or not you like it, Draco is my husband. We're going to be married for the rest of our lives, so you'll have to learn to at least be polite. You really hurt him last night when you called him a monster."

"Alright, alright," Bill said, running his hand through his long hair. "But still, you know he was a Death Eater and in my book that makes him a monster."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him. "He never was a Death Eater."

"Yes he was! He was responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore! He's the reason I was attacked by Greyback!"

"And if he hadn't done that his whole family would've been killed. It was a burden placed on his very young shoulders. Surely you would do the same in his position. Besides, he failed in his mission and thus wasn't allowed the 'honor' of becoming a Death Eater."

"You're right, I probably would do the same to protect Fleur and Victoire. But still, how are you so sure he's not a Death Eater?"

"He's my husband. You really don't think I've seen him naked?"

Bill and Ginny walked back into the large kitchen where Draco, Fleur, and Victoire were eating breakfast. Bill, looking decidedly green, turned to Draco.

"I'm sorry if I offended you last night," he ground out. "Now if you'll all forgive me, I'm running late for work." He practically fled out the door, stumbling over the threshold in his haste.

"Oh dear, just what did you say to him, Ginny?" Fleur asked.

Ginny grinned wickedly. "Oh, I may have told him that I've seen Draco naked."

Draco turned even paler than normal and Fleur sighed. "I thought the purpose of the conversation was to encourage him to be nicer to Draco rather than increase his desire to flay him alive?"

"Oh, I pulled a Mum and read him the riot act, don't worry. If he doesn't behave again this evening I really _will_ Floo Mum and have her deal with him."

"I just hope he listened to you," Fleur said doubtfully. "Come on then, let's get going."

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, I still go to Paris for our robes. They have the strangest robe styles around here." She scooped up Victoire from her high chair and made her way to the large fireplace, throwing the silvery Floo powder in the flames.

Draco and Ginny followed her, landing in the familiar cobbled street. "Can I make her a couple of robes?" Ginny asked. "I know the perfect fabric shop right around the corner from here and I haven't had the chance to make children's robes yet."

"If you want," Fleur smiled indulgently. "Have you ever been here, Draco?"

"Oh, yes, many times with my mother. She's especially fond of a shoe shop around here. She claims that you can dance all night in their stilettos and your feet never ache."

"Ah, yes, I know just the shop you're talking about. Those shoes really are amazing."

They turned the corner and found the fabric shop Ginny was looking for. They walked in to the tinkling of a bell and Ginny promptly walked over to the light cotton fabrics. "What do you think of this one?" she asked Fleur, holding up a pale yellow fabric sprigged with embroidered pink flowers.

"That's lovely!" Fleur exclaimed.

"Good," Ginny proclaimed, tucking the bolt under her arm. "Now let's see…"

"What about this one?" Draco called over to the girls, holding up a dark green and blue plaid taffeta.

"I'm not sure..." Fleur trailed off. "Don't you think it's a bit, well, formal for a two year old?"

"Nothing wrong with making her a pair of dress robes," Ginny pointed out, her eyes gleaming with possibilities. Draco tucked the bolt under his arm and snatched the other bolt from Ginny.

"Hmm… now let's see, what about this?" Fleur held up a bolt of light cotton in the palest shade imaginable of lavender.

"Yes, I think that could work," Ginny said tentatively.

"Well, if you're not sure…"

"Nonsense," Ginny proclaimed. "You'll be the one dressing her every day, you have every right to help pick things out." She took the bolt from Fleur and walked up to the counter, where an elderly woman greeted them.

"Oh my goodness, I haven't seen you in ages, Ginevra! How did that wedding robe of yours turn out?"

"Beautifully," Ginny beamed.

"Quite an unusual color, that's for sure, but I'm sure you did something fantastic with it. Now, how may I help you today?"

"I'd like five meters of each of these fabrics, please," Ginny said, handing over the bolts.

"Oh, what are you making now?"

"Some robes for my niece here."

"Fabulous! Let me just measure these out for you now." She waved her wand and suddenly the first bolt of fabric sprang into the air and began unwinding itself so quickly it was blurred. Moments later, there was a slicing sound and a rectangle of fabric gently folded itself before gliding back down to the work surface. The rest of the bolt went flying over their heads and back to where they had originally found it. This process was repeated twice more and finally the elderly woman wrapped them up in brown paper before handing them over.

"That'll be 12 galleons and 7 sickles, please." Fleur gasped in surprise but Draco, unphased, reached into his pocket and produced the correct change.

"Thank you very much and have a wonderful day! I hope to see you again soon, Ginevra!"

"I'm sure I'll be back soon," Ginny beamed. "Have a good day!"

They walked out of the shop and into the bright sunlight. "Mummy, I'm hungry," Victoire whined.

"Do you mind?" Fleur asked apologetically. "We'll only be about fifteen minutes."

"Not at all," Draco responded. "Shall we meet back here?"

"That sounds good," Fleur breathed in relief. "Hold Mummy's hand now, Victoire." The two walked off down the street.

"So, where do you want to go?" Draco asked.

"Well… there's this lovely little shop just down the street," she said tentatively. "They sell the most gorgeous accessories; they even have things for men too. Do you want to try there?"

"Sure, why not," he said nonchalantly.

They headed down the street and into the shop. Ginny sighed in happiness as she eyed the hat display. "Umm, there's the men's accessories," she said, pointing to the back corner of the store containing hats, belts, and colognes. She turned her attention back to the hat display.

Draco had few intentions of checking out the men's section. Making sure Ginny wasn't watching him, he walked over the perfume display, carefully sniffing each of the fragrances. He finally settled on a light floral scent and picked up a bottle of eau de parfum and a bottle of body lotion. He wandered back to Ginny who was now trying on various hats.

"No hats," he said in horror.

"Why not?" Ginny asked, frowning slightly.

"My mother has an enormous hat collection," he stated, quite seriously. "If you ever want any chance of this being a semi-normal marriage, you will not wear hats. Tiaras, yes, hats, no."

Ginny chuckled. "Alright, no hats then," she replied, shaking her head. "What is it that you have there?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just start to head on back to the street corner so I can take care of this nothing."

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. "If you insist," she said drily before leaving the shop.

Draco purchased the fragrances and carefully shrunk the package and tucked it into his robes. He strode quickly down the quiet street, knowing that he was running late to meet up with his new sister-in-law and niece. He rounded the street corner where he found the two ladies having a whispered discussion. Fleur had a particularly wicked grin on her face.

"Oh, Draco, we have some ladies business to take care of. Would you mind giving us an extra half hour or so?"

"Not at all," he replied, somewhat baffled.

Ginny linked arms with Fleur, leaving behind her very confused husband. As soon as they were out of earshot, Fleur burst into giggles. "Oh my, I would pay money to see his face later! Just please, please don't tell Bill about this."

"I won't," Ginny replied. "I'm still not sure why exactly you think this is a good idea."

"Because," Fleur stated matter of factly. "You two are newlyweds, both of you deserve this." She steered them into a shop filled with swim suits.

"Oh my goodness, Draco will _kill_ me if he sees me wearing one of these," Ginny said in horror.

"No, he won't," Fleur assured her. "I'm not really supposed to talk about where you're going next, but it's safe to say that there are private beaches involved. He'll be the only one to see you."

"Still, it might be too soon, it's not a love match, you know."

"Please," Fleur huffed. "Surely you two feel _something_ for each other if you're already pregnant, even if I do think it's much too soon for you in your relationship."

"I know, I know," Ginny said miserably. "It wasn't exactly my choice."

"What do you mean?" Fleur asked, her eyes widening.

"His mother had the nerve to feed us a form of Amortentia," Ginny said, glaring at her shoes. "It was hidden in our drinks at dinner and we woke up in a rather compromising position the following morning."

"I'm so sorry," Fleur said genuinely. "But still, time is ticking for you still having your old body, it's time to show it off!"

Finally after forty-five minutes, Ginny had a bright red halter top bikini, a dark blue bikini with many tiny straps holding it up, a pale pink bikini adorned with small, matching roses, a bright yellow bandeau bikini, a basic black bikini, and an emerald green strapless bikini.

"Are you sure I need all these?" Ginny asked doubtfully.

"My dear, I have half a mind to drag you to the lingerie store as well, but we're already running late."

* * *

At the end of the week, Bill had begun to relax a bit more around Draco, although he still turned a funny shade of red whenever he saw him with Ginny, which was quite often. Finally, he announced at dinner that tomorrow they would be going on a boat ride down the Nile and would go onto their final destination from there.

"I wonder where we're going next," Ginny mused as the two got ready for bed. After an embarrassing incident where Fleur walked in on Draco changing in the bathroom, they had finally began getting dressed for bed in their room, albeit facing away from one another to give each other some privacy.

"It sounds to be close by, I imagine the boat will take us there," Draco said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Let's see, my guesses would be Italy or Greece, we have properties in both countries."

"One of these days you're going to have to sit me down and explain exactly how many properties your family has," Ginny laughed. "I still fail to see why you need to have so many."

"They're your properties now too," Draco said absentmindedly. "Property is a good investment. Besides, it gives you an excuse to run away someplace under the pretense of checking up on things."

"So how many are there and where are they?" she asked curiously.

"Er… let's see. There's the mansion in Newport where we spent some quality time, and then the rest are in Europe. An island in Greece, a villa in Italy, a lodge in Switzerland, a chateau in France, a smaller hunting lodge in Scotland, and then of course, the Manor in England. So, that's seven total."

"Where will we be living? I know your mother had talked about France…"

Draco grimaced. "That place is just a little too… drafty for my tastes. I'd really rather stay at the hunting lodge in Scotland, less of a hassle to get to work, you know."

"That makes sense," she sighed.

"There's a gorgeous Quidditch pitch there," he said slyly, chancing a glance at her. He was quite surprised to see her features form a scowl.

"Of course there is," she said bitterly. "Now that I can't fly for the better part of a year. Probably longer, what with taking care of an infant after he's born."

"We'll get a nanny," Draco said confidently.

"No, we won't," Ginny said, glaring at him.

"What do you mean, we won't?" he asked perplexed. "You just said you'd be burdened taking care of an infant."

"That doesn't mean I don't want to take care of him!" she hissed. "I may not like the situation but I am going to do what's right!"

"Fine, fine, no nanny," Draco scowled. "Just don't expect me to be up at all hours taking care of them."

"It's your job!"

"I already have a job, thank you very much! And it sure as hell doesn't involve taking care of squalling newborns!"

"Fine, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Ginny sighed, raking her hand through her hair. "Come on now, I'm tired of fighting with you."

"We wouldn't be fighting if you didn't start them," Draco said sullenly.

"I'm going to ignore that comment so that we don't start _another_ argument." She reached out across the small distance separating and slipped her small hand into his much larger one. "Truce?"

"I feel like we've done this before, but yes, truce," he said grudgingly. "Now let's see how long this lasts."

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_There we go, I hope you enjoyed! Once again, thank you for all the reviews, alerts, and favs!_


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

After many goodbyes to the small Weasley family in Egypt, Draco and Ginny embarked on a boat. They still technically had one day left in Egypt, but the boat would taking them on a tour of the Nile and then to their final destination. Both were immensely relieved about this as they had grown quite tired of taking International Portkeys.

"This is really rather lovely," Ginny said with a lazy smile spreading across her face.

Draco was inclined to agree with her. After spending the day on a river, they had finally arrived at the Mediterranean Sea just in time for sunset. The small boat they had set out in had expanded into a good sized yacht as soon as they reached the deeper waters of the sea. The colors of the sunset on the water were truly nothing short of spectacular. He had every plan to stay up all night to stare at the sky, which was magnificent at sea where there was no light pollution from the Muggle streetlights.

"So, where do you think we're going?" Ginny asked, breaking the pleasant silence once again.

Draco pulled out his wand and laid it flat on his palm. It spun around in a circle before finally pointing off in one direction. "Ah, it would appear Mother's sending us off to the Greek island." He thought for a moment and frowned. "Of course, that's going to be nearly as bad as Newport: it's a small island and there'll be no one there except for us and the servants."

"Fleur knew and she wouldn't tell me a peep," Ginny said, making a face.

"What did she tell you?" Draco asked with great interest.

"Oh, just that there would be private beaches involved, which, I guess, is _very_ true if you own the whole island."

"Oh," was all Draco could say. "Why in the _world_ would she be concerned about private beaches?" he finally asked in utter bewilderment.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Something about only having this body for a couple more months or some such nonsense. You would not believe the number of bikinis she talked me into buying."

Draco choked on the breath of air he had just taken. "She _what?_" he asked through hacking coughs.

"Not only that," she added, scowling, "she strong-armed me into making an Unbreakable Vow that I'd wear a different one every day for at least three hours. _And _I _must_ spend the majority of those three hours on the beach."

Draco made a face. While he would _someday_ like to have some semblance of a normal relationship with his wife, he had no desire for that someday to be anytime soon. "Please let me know when these three hours will be so I can be on the other side of the island," he said in the coldest voice that he could muster. While he hadn't had to summon up that voice in a few years, it still left quite an impression.

"Not a problem," Ginny answered with a shiver, completely ignoring his frosty response. She wrapped her arms around herself against the ever deepening evening chill. "I'm going to go back to the cabin to warm up a bit," she told him before departing.

Draco sighed and pinched his nose quite viciously as soon as she was out of sight. This witch confused him to no end. He had a bit of a reputation as a philanderer in his school days, which really wasn't true because Pansy made sure no other females would even dream of coming near him. After the war his parents were always after him to keep his nose clean, help run the family business, and uphold the family name, leaving him little time for female companionship. His mother had pestered him briefly when he was younger about settling down but then seized the opportunity to have this blasted law pushed through the Ministry so she could help him choose some hapless victim for a wife.

The only problem was that his wife wasn't exactly a hapless victim.

She wasn't intimidated by him in the least, and she clearly had as many brains as he did. He had expected the littlest Weasley to be as classless and hot-headed like her older brother and she proved to be neither of those things, at least on the surface. For ten years she had had decorum drilled into her head, giving her a refined grace that he hadn't noticed any of her brothers possessing. As his mother was sure to point out to his father, she really was of equal status to them: perhaps her family was monetarily poor, but their heritage was nearly as rich and pure as theirs.

He sighed. Ginny really was a conundrum to him. They could get along beautifully, she could even make him be _nice_, which was practically unheard of, and then they'd start squabbling over every little thing.

Sitting down in a lounge chair, he laid back to watch the stars twinkle like diamonds in the sky.

Draco awoke the next morning to someone prodding his arm. Cracking an eye open he saw a sleek mane of red hair and a concerned face.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, squeezing his eye shut again after he was nearly blinded by the bright sunlight.

"I just wanted to tell you that breakfast is ready," the voice came through uncertainly. "Did you really sleep out here all night?"

He cracked his eye open again, a bit more this time, and realized that he had fallen asleep in the lounge chair while he was watching the stars and his back was aching horribly. "Urgh," he proclaimed, quite ungracefully, as his stomach rolled unpleasantly.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, the concerned note in her voice doubling.

"Just – blargh," he proclaimed again, inelegantly before twisting to the side of the chair and retching. He was quite surprised moments later when he heard another retching noise.

"Blech," Ginny said before leaning down and retching again. A house-elf appeared, thoughtfully vanishing the mess and placing a large barrel in front of the sick couple.

"I think I need a sea-sickness remedy," Draco grimaced, retching again.

"You," _retch_, "could have," _retch_, "told me you", _retch retch_, "weren't feeling well," Ginny gasped out, before finally slumping down next to the barrel looking pale and spent.

"How was I supposed to do that?" he snapped, although it lacked its usual bite and he was looking every bit as pale as his wife. "ELF!" he hollered. "Get me two sea-sickness potions _now_!"

"I don't get sea-sick," Ginny reminded him glumly.

"You just started getting sick out of thin air then," he stated incredulously. "You're sea-sick, face it."

Ginny scowled at him. "It's morning sickness, you idiot," she snapped. "I've been feeling horribly queasy the past two mornings and your display threw me over the edge."

Draco paled even further at this revelation and retched into the barrel yet again. "I was trying to forget about that," he moaned.

"I'd hit you for that if I knew it wouldn't hurt me so badly," Ginny said, her voice deadly calm. "This isn't something that's just going to _go away_ so you damn well better get used to it."

He responded by merely slumping back into the lounge chair and throwing an arm over his eyes. An elf chose that moment to pop back and handed Draco a small vial of a sludgy, green potion.

"For sea-sickness," it squeaked. "Is there anything else Missy can do for Master?"

"No," he snapped, downing the potion with a grimace. "Ah, that's much better."

"Missy?" Ginny called out, just as the elf was about to pop back down to wherever the elves were staying on board. "Could you please bring me a pot of peppermint tea?"

"Of course, Mistress," Missy responded, popping back below deck. A few moments later a steaming pot of tea and two fragile china cups appeared on a small table in between two lounge chairs.

Ginny wasted no time in vanishing the contents of the barrel and levitating it in front of the table. Sitting down in one of the lounge chairs, she poured two cups of tea and beckoned Draco to join her.

"Peppermint is good for stomach ailments," she said simply at his bewildered expression.

They sat in silence, sipping on the tea. After an hour or so, the house-elf, Missy, returned, scraping her nose against the polished boards of the ship.

"Breakfast is ready if Master and Mistress would be wanting it," she squeaked.

"We would," Draco responded quickly. She quickly bowed and popped back out of sight as the two made their way to the dining room.

Breakfast was a simple affair, but Draco breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed it was "normal" food as opposed to all the unusual food they had been served the past week while they were staying with the Weasleys. There were two steaming dishes of porridge and a variety of fruits to accompany it. He sat down, placing his napkin on his lap, and began slicing a banana over the porridge.

Ginny simply began stirring her porridge absentmindedly before picking up a bowl of blueberries and stirring them in. The two continued their awkward silence until another, considerably older, house-elf popped into the room.

"We have arrived, Master," he said in the lowest voice Draco had ever heard from a house-elf. Draco placed his napkin on the table and pushed his chair back.

"Very good. We will be ready to disembark momentarily."

"That was awfully fast," Ginny said, her eyes wide in amazement.

"Magic," Draco smirked at her.

She swatted him lightly on the arm. "I swear I will never get used to that," she grimaced, rubbing her sore arm.

"Maybe if you didn't have so many violent tendencies it wouldn't be a problem."

She scowled at him but followed him out onto the deck.

Draco sighed in contentment at the sight that greeted them. He had decided years ago that the green, rocky island with white sand surrounded by blue waters was quite possibly one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Bathed in the bright mid-morning sunlight, he found that he could disagree with that sentiment: it _was_ the most beautiful sight in the world - and it was all his. A set of beautifully carved wooden stairs appeared next to the ship as a highly polished dock came into view.

"Impressive," Ginny murmured next to him. He set off down the stairs and onto the dock before taking out his wand and concentrating on the wards. Moments later a beautiful, sparkling white mansion came into view. He smirked and looked at Ginny whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

The front of the mansion had six Corinthian columns stretching three stories high to hold up the roof. A large entryway graced the center of the structure, unusual in that it was simply that: an entryway lacking a door. Golden sunlight streamed through the entryway, which clearly lead to an inner courtyard. They walked up the well cut, rough stone steps and they reached the entryway. Inside was even more beautiful: the courtyard was filled with flowers and golden sunlight. Small balconies popped up on the second and third stories of the courtyard.

"There are no doors here, is the weather always this beautiful?" Ginny asked as she took in her surroundings.

Draco laughed. "Oh no," he assured her. "Mother, however, felt that the place felt too stuffy, even with glass doors, so Father ordered they all be removed and Imperturbable charms be placed over the whole place. Even the dock has them so the elves don't even have to bother scraping off barnacles and other sea grime."

Ginny then bent down to examine a flower and grimaced. "Er – Draco? Do you know where our trunks are? Only we're both still in our night clothes…"

"We're on a private island," he responded grandly. "If I wish to stay in my night clothes all day, no one can stop me!"

"Just so long as you don't run around starkers," Ginny mumbled.

"You're going to be doing nearly that running around in your swimsuits!" he shot back.

"Alright, so long as you don't run around stalkers in front of _me_," she clarified.

"I thought you told your brother, rather proudly, that as my wife you had seen me naked," he said, leering at her slightly.

"Ugh, you're insufferable! Missy, show me to my room!"

Missy popped into the courtyard, her nose scraping the gravel. "As Mistress wishes," she squeaked.

The house-elf led her across the courtyard and over to an entryway covered by a sheer white curtain. Draco harrumphed and sat down on one of the ornate stone benches that were littered throughout the large courtyard.

* * *

Ginny was frankly amazed at the whole mansion as they climbed the three flights of stairs to the master suite. She was then even more surprised to find a rather simple white door in front of her, which Missy silently pushed open, revealing a sitting room done in royal blues and whites. It really was very simple and elegant, everything she had come to expect from Narcissa Malfoy.

Missy then led her to yet another set of doors, which revealed the master bedroom. This too was done in royal blues and whites and clearly was on a corner of the house as two walls were covered in windows. In the corner opposite the windows were two entryways leading to the largest balcony in the courtyard, which contained a small table and two chairs. Another two doors were on opposite sides of the enormous bed. She first tried the one on the right, which proved to be a beautifully proportioned bathroom with a shower and an enormous tub. She splashed some water on her face and set off to examine the second door in the bedroom.

The second door, on the left side of the bed, turned out to be the closet she was searching for. All of her robes had been removed from her trunk, as had Draco's, and they had already been hung and pressed. Choosing a pale yellow robe, she set out back into the bedroom to stare out at the beautiful scenery. After a few minutes, she determinedly returned to the closet, pulled out a swim suit and headed off to the nearby beach.

* * *

Draco sat flummoxed in the courtyard before finally standing up and heading off to the library to read his favorite book, _Famous Wizards of the Ages_. The library was quite possibly one of the grandest rooms in this building. It encompassed both sides of the front entryway and was connected by the third floor. Windows dotted the walls, as did thousands of books, and comfortable chairs were littered all around. Two beautifully carved spiral staircases led to the third floor, but seeing as how that was where the books on the Dark Arts were house, he preferred to simply cross the entryway and stay on the first floor. Climbing a nearby ladder that was charmed to glide smoothly at the slightest touch and also such that its occupant could not fall to the ground, he retrieved his thick book.

An hour later, he snapped the book shut, unable to concentrate any longer. His thoughts had been full of the young redheaded witch, who had driving him quite batty the whole morning. Running a hand through his now longish hair, he decided that a nice dip in the sea would be perfect for freeing his mind. Making his way to the master suite, he pulled out the one Muggle-inspired item that he owned: a pair of swim trunks. Grabbing a towel, he headed down to the beach.

When Draco arrived there, he groaned. Off in the distance, in the waves, was a redheaded woman wearing tiny scraps of green fabric. He thought about leaving to go to another beach, but resolutely decided that it was _his_ beach and no one else was going to keep him from going to go there. He kept walking to the beach, eventually wading into the warm, clear waters. Moments later, Ginny looked up at him in alarm.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, wading into waist deep waters and hugging her chest protectively.

"This is _my_ beach, why shouldn't I be here?" he asked arrogantly.

"Er – I suppose I'll move off then," Ginny said, her face bright red as she began wading away.

Draco smirked proudly, but he couldn't stop the small sinking feeling in his gut as she disappeared from view.

* * *

Ginny had managed to find a tiny little beach, surrounded by rocks, that seemed to be the perfect place to be alone. It was only comfortable to approach the beach by water so for the first several days she waded out to it, although one of the house-elves finally pulled her aside and showed her a small boat house which contained several row boats, charmed to row themselves. After she found the library on the third day, she loaded several interesting looking novels and a picnic basket into the boat, only after liberally applying sun potions to protect her fair skin. She had neglected these potions the first two days and after being burned to a crisp the ever helpful house-elf had also shown her a stockroom of healing potions.

On the fifth day she had done this, she let out a groan as she saw a swimmer coming towards her. The island was well hidden with extensive wards, so the only possible person this could be was Draco.

"I see you've found the hiding place," he smirked as he stepped out of the water.

Ginny steadfastly ignored him, resisting the urge to wrap herself in her towel. Her nose remained buried in her novel, which today was _The Hounds of the Morigann_, a Wizarding novel of such acclaim it had supposedly made its way into the Muggle world.

Draco frowned at being ignored, so he conjured a towel and opened the picnic basket. This got Ginny's attention.

"That's my lunch!" she hissed.

"Surely there's enough to share," he said, pleased to have gotten a reaction out of her.

She frowned and peered into the basket. It contained a small jug of milk, a single sandwich, an apple, and two cookies.

"Alright, maybe there isn't," Draco grudgingly admitted as he examined the contents of the basket. "Tipsy!"

A house-elf popped in front of them. "What can Tipsy do for Master Draco?" she asked from a deep bow.

"I need another picnic basket," he ordered. "Preferably something a bit more substantial than my wife's."

Tipsy popped out again and returned several minutes later. This time his mouth watered. His basket contained a thick club sandwich, two bottles of butterbeer, a smaller basket of chips, and a pear.

"Is Master Draco pleased with his basket?" Tipsy squeaked.

Draco gave a brief nod and waved his hand before digging into the basket.

"So, about next week," he began after he had finished half his sandwich. Ginny's eyes snapped up from her book.

"What about it?" she asked warily.

"Well, we'll be moving into the hunting lodge," he said with a frown on his face. "I suppose you'll have to redo some of the décor, the elves keep immaculately clean, but there's no accounting for my great-great-grandfather's sense of style."

Ginny grimaced. "How bad?"

"Pretty awful," Draco admitted. "Mother flat out refuses to go there and I've only been a few times with Father, but – let's just say it's not the nicest of places."

"Remind me of why you want to live there again?" Ginny asked wearily.

"Because it's the only free property in the British isles. I don't quite feel like taking two International Portkeys every day just to get to work."

"Fair enough," Ginny sighed. "What's my redecorating budget?"

"That will be determined when we get there and assess what needs to be done."

"Alright. Let's hope it's not as bad as your memories."

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_I'm really sorry about the delay in this update, my boyfriend of five years recently broke up with me, making it a tad difficult to write. :( I've never actually been pregnant so I'm using my mom as an example, who claimed that she always got morning sickness before she even knew she was pregnant (and then it lasted for the next seven months). The Hounds of the Morrigan is an actual real, excellent book, heavy in Irish mythology. Soon enough the story's going to pick up the pace a bit, it's not going to go week by week by week, although the jumps won't be as drastic as when Ginny was in school. Hope you all enjoyed this!_


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Ginny stood in the middle of the parlor with her hands on her hips. Draco had just left for work, leaving her alone in their new house. To say that his unflattering assessment of the house was accurate was the understatement of the century. The house-elves had grown slack in their duties over the years, leaving the place dank, dusty, and doxy ridden. While there were no house-elf heads mounted on the walls, there were a number of animal heads instead. The whole place strongly reminded Ginny of the miserable two weeks she had spent at 12 Grimmauld Place during the war.

"Let's see, what shall I do first?" she muttered to herself. She paced up and down the length of the parlor for a few moments. "Aha! The sitting room!" The sitting room was where she suspected that she and Draco would spend much of their spare time. It was considerably less formal than the parlor, whose whole purpose she suspected was to receive the Minister of Magic.

The sitting room, nonetheless, was in positively miserable condition. The curtains were heavy and had holes where the doxies had chewed through and the sofas were moth eaten. It seemed to have been last redone in the early nineteenth century, so she very much so doubted that the furniture would be particularly comfortable even if it had been properly maintained. Not trusting the house-elves, she rolled up her sleeves, summoned some cleaning supplies and began to scrub.

* * *

Draco arrived home and wrinkled his nose at the smell. He hoped that Ginny completed her renovations sooner rather than later, but he had hoped that she had managed to whip the house-elves back into shape – preferably quite literally. Unfortunately, she did not seem to be the type to punish house-elves in such a fashion and he highly doubted that he'd hear the end of it if he tried such measures.

"Ginny?" he called out, after searching for her for several minutes. Much to his surprise, she came out of a door just up ahead a few moments later.

"Yes?" she asked wearily, raising a shaking hand to brush some sweat off her forehead.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

"Cleaning," she said simply.

"There are three house-elves here! Why the hell were _you_ cleaning?"

"Because I don't trust them," she snapped. "Have you _seen_ this place? It's positively filthy!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're lazy because they've been lacking direction for so long. Do you want me to ask Mother to come over tomorrow and help with them?"

She began to cry at this. "I suppose," she sniffled.

"Now, what do you say we head out to dinner?"

Ginny really began crying at this. "I – I – I'm sorry," she sobbed. "It's just that – that I'm filthy, I'm tired, and I haven't eaten all day."

"Then go up and take a shower?"

"The pipes are all rusted out!"

He sighed. He really should have remembered that. After watching a tiny trickle of brown water come through the spigot that morning he had snuck back into his old rooms at the Manor to shower. "How about we quickly visit the Manor so you can shower?"

She glared at him. "In case you've forgotten, your father and I are not on the very best of terms."

"I managed to avoid seeing him this morning, I just Apparated straight into my old rooms. You'll have to Side-Along Apparate with me, of course, but we can get in there without anyone noticing."

"If you say so," she said doubtfully, wiping away the last of her tears. "Let me just grab some clean clothes."

As soon as they popped into the Manor, Draco wasted no time in showing Ginny to his bathroom. It was the most magnificent bathroom she had ever seen and she wished she could spend all evening in there scrubbing away the grime of the Lodge, but she was still wary of being caught unawares by Draco's father. After she hurried into the bathroom and he heard the sound of water running, Draco snuck out of his rooms and began searching for his mother. After a few minutes, he found her in her sitting room.

"Hello, Mother," he said in greeting.

"Draco! What a pleasant surprise!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to give him a hug. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"It's about Ginny," he said.

"What's wrong with her? Is she alright?"

"She's having a few troubles with the house-elves at the Lodge. To say they've let the place run down is an understatement."

Narcissa scowled at this information, but just as she was about to speak the door clicked open.

"Ah, Draco, there you are! I thought I felt someone come through the wards. Tell me, did you bring that little blood traitor brat with you?"

"Where Ginny is is no concern of yours, Father," he grit out.

Lucius cackled at this. "Ah, so she is here then!"

"If you must know, the Lodge is completely unsuitable for human habitation right now. I simply came over to ask Mother to help whip the house-elves back into shape. If they don't start behaving soon, I shall be forced to – ah – replace them."

"I'm sure we'll get them to behave in no time," Narcissa scowled. She had visited her crazy Aunt Walburga's house on more than one occasion and the mounted house-elf heads on the wall terrified her as a child and disgusted her as a teenager. While she was certainly not above punishing wayward house-elves, killing them was another matter entirely.

"Well, if you are not, I am certainly happy to help you dispose of them," Lucius offered graciously. "Of course, I'm sure that those impoverished blood traitors no nothing about the proper care and discipline of house-elves."

"Ginny's more concerned with how lazy they've become. She no longer trusts them to do their job adequately, but I'm sure with Mother's help they'll be back to their old selves in no time at all."

Ginny carefully walked into Draco's bedroom, toweling her hair dry before drying it. She had wanted to ask him about the dress code for dinner, she had forgotten to ask him before they had left and in the interest of saving time, she had grabbed a fistful of robes as she was flying out the door. She was horrified to find him missing, even after carefully checking the bedroom, sitting room, and even the large closet. Finally she decided to attend to her hair and makeup after nicking a dressing robe from the overly large closet.

After what seemed ages, but was really only a few minutes, Ginny heard a loud pop in the bedroom. Cracking the door open, she saw Draco wearily running his hands over his face.

"You can come out, you know," he told her. As she came out, he took in his dressing robe trailing behind her and looked at her in amazement. "Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Ginny blushed. "I wasn't sure of where we're going," she admitted. "And I know that since you're so particular about what robes I wear, I assumed I should consult with you first." She rolled her eyes before reaching into the pocket of the dressing robe, pulling out two shrunken robes and enlarging them. The first was a pair of fairly simple every day robes and the second was a set of fancier dress robes with a matching cloak.

"Go with the dress robes," he told her. "You'd look like a commoner in those other ones where we're going."

Mumbling something about picky, arrogant husbands, Ginny walked back into the bathroom and changed into the dress robes. She returned back to the bedroom a few minutes later, tucking the other shrunken robes to an interior pocket in her cloak.

"Shall we?" Draco smirked, proffering his right arm. She grasped it and he spun, sucking them off into the unknown.

* * *

The restaurant they arrived at had quite a long line to get in, but as soon as the maitre d' noticed them, he quickly greeted them and ushered them off to a small room in the rear of the building. Ginny smiled as she sank down into one of the plush dining chairs. The room held a cozy table for two and one entire wall was a magical window with beautiful garden scenery.

"Better?" Draco asked, thankful that her tears seem to have abated.

"Much," she said, a broad smile still gracing her features.

"I've been thinking," he said, then paused as a waiter came in to take their drink orders.

"I've been thinking," he repeated after the door clicked shut behind the waiter. "What do you say to moving to a hotel, temporarily of course, until the Lodge renovations are complete?"

Ginny frowned. "Wouldn't it simply be easier to move to one of your other properties for a few weeks? I imagine a hotel stay of that length would be quite expensive."

Draco smirked at her. "You're a Malfoy now," he explained, causing her to scowl at him. "You'll soon learn not to worry about such trivial things as expenses. Besides, it's far preferable than needing to take an International Portkey twice a day, which, I might add, is considerably more expensive than a hotel bill."

Ginny smiled. "That sounds lovely."

The waiter then arrived again to take their dinner orders. After ordering two salads, and lobster bisque (which Draco had taken a liking to while they were in Newport) Ginny raised her eyebrows as Draco opened his mouth to order yet more food. "Excuse us for a moment," she told the waiter, who quickly left the room.

"Exactly how much food are you planning on ordering?" she asked.

"Salad, soup, entrée, and then desert later on," he said in surprise. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Yes! It's too much food!"

"Fine, you can skip a course," he grumbled. He snapped his fingers loudly and the waiter rushed back in.

"I'll have the house salad, lobster bisque, and the salmon with dill sauce." He snapped his menu shut and handed it to the waiter.

"I'll have the caesar salad and lobster bisque, please." Ginny likewise handed her menu to the waiter and he hurriedly left the room.

"So," Ginny began, swirling her seltzer water around in her champagne flute. "Where exactly will we be staying? The Leaky Cauldron?"

Draco scowled. "Certainly not," he scoffed. "We'll be staying at the Golden Foal."

"I've never heard of that particular hotel, is it here in Diagon Alley?"

"Oh yes, just about a block away."

* * *

After dinner they walked down to the Golden Foal to get an idea of where they'd be living the next few weeks. Ginny insisted on getting a suite with a kitchen, claiming that all the rich restaurant food would not only sit poorly if eaten all the time, but that she would lose her Quidditch toned figure in no time at all. Draco thoughtfully reminded her that, according to Fleur, she would be losing her figure rather soon anyways, but frantically began backtracking when her lower lip started wobbling. In the end, they procured a lovely two bedroom suite with an office, kitchen, sitting room, dining room, and two spacious bathrooms. It even had a small rooftop terrace where Ginny could hold teas and luncheons, as Draco assured her she'd need to start doing soon to help the family business. Draco also insisted on spending quite a bit of time (and money) on getting the wards in their room specifically tuned to them so that they could Apparate in and out at will. He claimed that it would be worth it considering that it was likely to be an extended stay.

"I'm not sure why you insisted on all this space," Ginny said as she sank down on the luxuriously soft bed. After their first disastrous week of their honeymoon they had taken to sharing a bed out of convenience. They had tried going to separate rooms in Greece, but Draco secretly missed the late night cuddles and Ginny claimed that she needed additional body warmth in the cool evenings.

"We don't know how long we'll be here and it's quite possible I'll need to entertain clients," he said, staring at the dining room thoughtfully.

"I hope your mother is able to talk some sense into those house-elves tomorrow," Ginny frowned. "You should have someone check up on the house-elves," she muttered under her breath.

"Actually, I was thinking of having a two year rotation where we'd visit all the properties for at least one week to make sure the elves stay in tip-top condition."

"That's not a bad idea," Ginny mused.

Draco smirked. "Of course it's not, _I_ came up with it."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course."

"At any rate, I'm running back to the Lodge now to grab our trunks. Everything you need is still in yours, right?"

"Yes," Ginny confirmed. "Thank you."

He disappeared from the room with a loud _pop!_ leaving her all alone. She had to admit in some respects he was rather sweet. He had poked fun at her not Apparating a few times – but it was done in fun. He had graciously offered her his arm any time they needed to go someplace and never made any remarks at how tightly and nervously she gripped it.

Another loud _pop!_ broke through her thoughts. "Worth every knut to get the wards here specifically tuned to us," Draco proclaimed, pulling two shrunken trunks out of his pocket. "I wish we could've done that at the Lotus Suites, such a nuisance climbing all those stairs every day."

Ginny walked over to the two miniature trunks, enlarged them and removed the featherlight charm. "I certainly won't mind living here for a few weeks," she said, rummaging through her trunk for a nightgown.

"It's tolerable," Draco said, sniffing the contents of his trunk. He had neglected to close it in his haste that morning and it had picked up the moldy smell of the Lodge. "Er – Ginny? Do you know any good freshening charms?"

She stopped her trek to the bathroom and turned to look at him. "I'm not freshening the entire contents of you trunk," she said firmly.

"But – "

"No buts. Give me a night robe and I'll freshen that for you." He scowled at her, but dug around and handed her a night robe. "Oh, alright, hand me whatever you're going to wear tomorrow as well." She carefully ran her wand over the robes for several minutes before handing them back. "Does that meet your standards?"

Draco carefully sniffed the robes and smelled… nothing. "Very good," he pronounced before walking off to the bathroom.

"Excuse me?" Ginny's voice came from behind him.

He turned around. "You did a very good job, and yes, it meets my standards," he said, nonplussed.

"And that's _all_ you have to say?"

"Yes?"

Ginny huffed and stalked off to the other bathroom to complete her evening ablutions. "Don't expect me to freshen any more robes for you!" she called out.

"I was going to send them out to be laundered tomorrow, anyways!" He was quite confused, he told her she had done a good job, what more did she want?

* * *

Ginny went to bed in a huff. Hadn't the man ever heard of a simple _thank you_? She curled up on the far side of the bed and then grew quite annoyed when morning came and, as usual, the two of them were snuggled together in the center of the bed. She tried shifting out of Draco's grasp but much to her dismay he simply gripped her waist tighter and buried his face in her shoulder. Suddenly, a wave of nausea overcame her and she began wrenching at his arm, desperate to get to the bathroom.

"Ow! Where are you going?" Draco demanded groggily. He soon had his answer she began retching loudly in the nearby bathroom. Groaning, he got up and called one of the hotel house-elves to bring them tea and dry toast. Ginny came out into the dining room moments before the food arrived and upon seeing it, she promptly turned green and ran back into the bathroom. Draco called the house-elf back to remove the toast and resigned himself to eating breakfast in his office that morning.

A few minutes later, Ginny wearily emerged from the bathroom a second time. She gave Draco a small smile as she noticed that the toast was no longer on the table. He poured her a cup of tea, which she took with shaky hands and carefully sipped from.

"I'm going to ask Mum about what to do about the morning sickness," Draco snorted at this, "when I Floo her today. Don't you snort, mister, you aren't the one emptying your guts out every time you see food till mid-afternoon!"

Draco decided to ignore her last comment. "What time are you Flooing your mum?"

"Right after you leave. Your mother is meeting me at the Lodge at nine, correct?"

"Correct. Well, I suppose I'm off, so you best Floo your mum. Good luck today!" He disappeared from the room with a loud _pop!_ leaving her quite alone.

After sipping her tea for a few more minutes and checking that her face had regained some color, she took a deep breath, threw some Floo powder in the flames and called out "_The Burrow!"_

Her head began spinning rapidly in the green flames and but stopped just as she was beginning to feel nauseous again. "Mum!" she called out.

"Oh, Ginny, dear! No, no, don't you talk to me from there, where are you Flooing from?"

"Room 428 at the Golden Foal in Diagon Alley."

"Alright, now get out of that grate, I'm coming through!"

Ginny quickly stood back and sure enough, her mother appeared in swirling green flames moments later. "Ginny, dear, I thought you said you were in a hotel room."

Ginny laughed. "Well, we are," she confirmed. "Given the condition of the house that we're staying in we're probably going to be here awhile and Draco might need to entertain business clients. It's a bit grand though, isn't it?"

"Certainly more than I'd ever _need_ but it's lovely," she assured her daughter. "Now, how have you been?"

"It's a long story," Ginny grimaced.

"Well, we've got all the time in the world."

"No, actually, we don't, I have to meet with Mrs. Malfoy at – er – our house in about an hour."

"Why's that?"

"The house is in horrible condition because it hasn't been lived in in years and the house-elves have gotten to be quite lazy. She's coming over to help me get them back into shape."

"You didn't think your old Mum could do that?"

"Well – you don't exactly have house-elves at the Burrow."

Molly patted her hand. "No worries, dear, I had two house-elves growing up!"

Ginny was shocked. Her mother seldom talked about her family. She knew that she had been very close to her twin brothers, who died in the first war, and that much of her family had disowned her when she married into the Weasley family.

"You had two house-elves?" Ginny asked carefully, hoping to glean some more information about the Prewett family from her mother.

"Oh, yes! One of them, Squinty, was very sweet. After I was disowned, she taught me a few tricks around the kitchen and some useful cleaning tips. Poor thing had to shut her hands in the oven after she did so."

"And you let her do that?" Ginny asked in horror.

"Well, she wasn't _my_ house-elf anymore at that point so I couldn't order her not to. I found out from Fabian after the fact."

"Oh," Ginny said faintly, picturing a poor elf with heavily bandaged hands.

"But at any rate, I can certainly help you get those house-elves back into shape! You're meeting up at nine, I gather?"

"Yes," Ginny nodded. "Anyways, I had a question for you."

"What is it?"

"Well – you see – I'm pregnant."

"Congratulations!" Molly hugged her daughter fiercely then noticed that she didn't seem excited about it. "I'm guessing this was unexpected?"

"Quite," she said, giving her mother an extremely abbreviated tale of her honeymoon, sidestepping the whole issue of how _exactly_ she had become pregnant.

"So what was your question?" her mother inquired after she had finished her tale.

"It's the morning sickness."

"Ah. Nothing but time can take care of that, I'm afraid."

Ginny's face fell in disappointment. "Nothing?"

"Well, there are some potions, but they're not entirely safe for the growing babe, so they're only used in the most extreme of circumstances. How bad has yours been?"

"Pretty bad," Ginny groaned. "I can't even look at food till two or three in the afternoon. After that I'm fine."

"Oh, that's nothing! With the twins I was sick morning, noon, and night for the whole eight months! Had to learn to keep eating regardless of how I was feeling! Have you tried peppermint tea or mints in the mornings?"

"No, actually I haven't," Ginny said thoughtfully. "I've just been drinking tea with a bit of milk."

"You've been drinking _what_? Merlin, didn't they teach you anything at all in those healing classes you had to take?"

"Those were over five _years_ ago, Mum! I remember all the important stuff like mending bones and the like!"

* * *

Molly and Ginny Flooed to the Lodge just before nine and found Narcissa already waiting for them.

"I've tried calling for them and they aren't responding," she informed them, disgusted. "Either they've perished or we have quite a lot more work to do here than I thought."

After a bit of nosing around, the three women managed to locate the kitchen, which was somewhat cleaner, although still filthy, than the rest of the house. There were three house-elves drinking what appeared to be butterbeer around a large fire. One of them raised his bottle to them in greeting before staring back into the fire.

"Oh dear Merlin," Molly whispered.

Narcissa whipped out her wand and suddenly the butterbeer shot out of all three bottles and down the drain in the dirty sink. Another wave of the wand vanished the small chairs they had been sitting on.

"You," she pointed at one elf, "and you," she pointed at another, "and _you_" she pointed at the elf who had greeted them. "_What_ do you have to say for yourselves?"

"We have no master," one elf said sullenly.

"Yes you do," Narcissa snapped irritably. "I was your Mistress until a few days ago when this young lady," she touched Ginny's elbow, "became your _new_ Mistress."

"Blinky hadn't heard of any Master or Mistress coming to the Lodge," another elf chimed in.

"They've the best enunciation I've ever heard from elves," Molly whispered to Narcissa.

"They're old Black family elves, always a little feisty and quite intelligent," Narcissa whispered back. "Apparently it's all gotten to their head in the past few years."

"So you're Blinky," Molly said kindly to the second elf that spoke. "And you are…?"

"Sippy," grumbled another elf, growling at the bottom of its butterbeer bottle.

"And that leaves you… What are you called?"

"Lobby."

"Now, Blinky, Sippy, and Lobby, why is it that you lounge around all day drinking instead of cleaning?"

"Because there is no Master to clean for!" Sippy cried out. "What is the point if the Master is not there to appreciate one's work?"

"Alright," Molly said, quite pleased that her plan was working. "So your old Mistress is claiming that this young lady is your new Mistress… does that not please you?"

"Never seen either one before," grumbled Lobby.

"Oh dear," Narcissa murmured. "It looks like Lucius is going to have to hand over ownership directly to Draco and he certainly won't allow them to acknowledge Ginny as their Mistress."

"Can't you just… swap them for another set of house elves at your home?" Molly suggested. "The elves there would listen to you."

Ginny waited with baited breath for Narcissa's answer.

"Yes – yes – I think that could work," she said thoughtfully, a small frown marring her forehead. "You, elves!"

They had returned to sitting around the fire with fresh butterbeers.

Narcissa huffed in annoyance and called out, "TIPPY!"

An immaculately clean house-elf wrapped in a crisp sheet popped into view. "Yes, Mistress?" it squeaked from a deep bow.

"I am releasing you from my service to the service of Draco and Ginevra Malfoy," Narcissa stated, causing a shudder to course through the elf's small body.

"Of course," the elf said, bowing to Ginny. "How may Tippy serve her new Mistress?"

* * *

Finally, mid-afternoon, Ginny left Tippy to her cleaning. She had made sure to extract a promise that the little house-elf would get at least seven hours of rest that night. The three other elves had been moved to Malfoy Manor and she shuddered to think of what exactly her in-laws would do to them. The two of them had managed to scrub the sitting room and kitchen clean. She was beginning to wonder if it would be more practical to simply call in the renovators now and let them simply strip the grim away with all the old décor.

Ginny became quite grateful that Narcissa had connected the fireplace to the Floo network while they were on their honeymoon. It had been disconnected some years ago when Lucius became swamped at work and did not wish to be bothered with work related issues on the scarce weekend he managed to get away. He, unlike Ginny, had no qualms about Apparating and used that method of transport whenever he felt like coming over.

After getting back to the suite at the Golden Foal, Ginny wearily climbed into the shower to scrub all the grime off from the long days work. After she was done, she began looking through the directory left in the room to begin the search for renovators. Soon enough, her search was interrupted by a loud pop.

"Did you manage to get the house-elves working?" Draco asked as he flung his cloak into a nearby chair.

"No," Ginny scowled, looking up from the directory. "We did find them, but they even refused to acknowledge your mother, so we sent them to the Manor and traded them for an elf named Tippy. She's been reassigned, I think permanently, to us."

"Ah, yes, Tippy's a good elf," Draco said, sounding pleased. "Did she make much progress today?"

"_We_ made some progress today. The sitting room and kitchen have been cleaned, although neither is still in very good shape. What do you say that we call in the renovators now and simply have them deal with the mess?"

Draco looked surprised. "Why didn't we think of doing that in the first place?"

"Well, I was hoping there was something worth salvaging under all the grime, but clearly there's nothing."

* * *

Two months. Two months was how long it had taken to completely gut the lodge and remodel the interior. Ginny had even called in gardeners to create beautiful, lush gardens on the grounds. The initial estimates for the time to remodel the place were six months, but they quickly offered the renovators double the amount of money. More workers were hired and Ginny and Draco now stood in their new home.

Ginny, much to her dismay, was already sporting a noticeable bulge in her abdomen. To her great surprise, Draco quickly became very fond of it, kissing it every day when he woke up, when he got home from work – really at any chance he got. She was not terribly fond of this because she was still queasy much of the day and did not appreciate having her stomach touched, but nothing could persuade him to stop.

She groaned in annoyance as once again she felt a large pair of hands snake around her, caressing her belly. She swatted them away, but they stubbornly remained where they were.

"You did a good job," Draco announced, taking in the formal parlor. In the remodel, Ginny had separated the formal sections of the Lodge from the family section. It had taken some time, but she had finally found someone capable of erecting wards around separate sections of the house. The family section, for instance, was tuned such that anyone of Weasley or Malfoy blood was automatically allowed in, although they still needed to be received by either Draco or Ginny before they could wander freely. They had also been set such that they could easily be reconfigured by Ginny or Draco to allow other individuals in as well. Those who had not been tuned in could not even see the entryways that led to the private portion of the Lodge.

Ginny snorted. "I didn't do much, I just bossed people around," she retorted.

"That's all you should be doing," Draco grumbled. She had begun talk of starting to create a robe line that could be marketed at Madam Malkin's, Twilfit and Tattings, or Gladrags, which annoyed Draco to no end. There hadn't been a Malfoy wife in centuries that had worked and he didn't feel like being the one to break that record.

"Come on, let me show you the rest of the house," Ginny said excitedly, finally pushing his hands off her abdomen. He quickly followed her, eager to see the rest of the place.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_And there's that chapter! Thank you all for your kind reviews. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

_Anyways, I've got two possibilities for the next chapter: right before the baby is born or right after the baby is born. Let me know which one you want.  
_


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